


From Hell (Or Thereabouts) He Came

by Huntress69



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, First Time, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 19:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress69/pseuds/Huntress69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A witch casts a spell over Dean....</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Hell (Or Thereabouts) He Came

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Implied John/Bobby  
> 2) Tiny AU (at the end) regarding the yellow-eyed demon.  
> 3) I brought the telekinesis back for this fic, because I liked the idea.  
> 4) This fic takes place in Duluth, Minnesota, a city that I use very often in my fics - why I have no idea. I have never been there, but I have used it so many times, I feel as if I should go visit.  
> 5) The story of Sam's first kill is borrowed from **dladyg's** cute fic [**First Kill**](http://samdean.archive.nu/viewstory.php?sid=605)

**Disclaimer: Sam belongs to Dean, Dean belongs to Sam. Nuff said!**

**************

** Part 1 - The Spell **

"Get over here, Dean," Sam warned, trying to catch him.

"Nope, not gonna and you can't make me!" Dean blew a raspberry and ran across the street.

Sam nearly had a cardiac arrest as no less than three cars missed hitting his brother. He finally caught up with Dean and dragged him back to the motel. "Dean, you will stay here and do what I say."

"Uh-uh, no way, no how." Dean nodded in a _so there_ motion. 

"If you don't," Sam growled, "I will tell that boy you made friends with that you wet the bed last night."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh yes I would."

"I'm gonna tell my Dad on you."

"If you can find him, feel free." Sam rolled his eyes theatrically. "Now, will you stay here while I go and get us some dinner?" He smiled at Dean. "Big Mac, large fries and large chocolate shake?"

"Okay, but they **better** be large or else."

Sam nearly asked him about the _or else_ , but instead quickly left the motel room. He headed to McDonald's but before he went in he made an emergency phone call to his father, leaving the 911 signal they'd agreed upon. John would return the call as soon as he was able. The moment he walked out with the food, his phone rang, and he was thankful John had returned his call quickly. 

"Sammy, please tell me everything is okay. I've had one hell of a week."

"We ran into a witch, Dad, and of course, as is the norm, loud-mouth just **had** to piss her off."

"What happened? No wait, let me sit down first. Okay, go ahead."

"First off, I should tell you she was a white witch, with no interest in the black arts, and she did help us out in tracking that incubus. But afterwards, Dean made a few remarks about her kind, and she said he needed to learn some manners. She turned him into...." Sam paused, catching his breath. "Oh God, dad, it's horrible. I can't cope with it. She said it would wear off, but...I'm gonna kill myself shortly."

"Is he a mouse? A dog? A penguin?"

"A penguin?"

"I just saw that movie about them. It was pretty good, Sam. I don't usually go for documentaries but...."

"It's worse than that, Dad."

"Tell me, Sammy. I can handle it."

"He doesn't recognize me at all. He thinks you left him in my care while you were on a hunt."

" **Sam**...."

"He's got the filthiest mouth and I almost washed it out with soap. He's been cursing in different languages. Dad, he told me to kiss his ass in Aramaic!"

"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED, SAM?!"

"He's a ten year old!"

"A ten year old?"

"Yeah."

John laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.

"I don't think it's funny, Dad. Dean as an adult is bad enough, but as a kid...."

"Where are you now?"

"Still in Duluth. I begged her to reverse the spell but she refused."

"Okay, Sam, I am outside Carson City and can be in Duluth by tomorrow evening."

"Do you think I should tell him what happened? It's not as if he wouldn't understand."

"No, not until I get there. And do you think you can handle things until then?"

"I don't know, Dad. This is rough."

"I have faith in you, Sammy."

"It's **SAM**!"

"Now is NOT the time to get picky, boy! Just deal with it until I get there."

"Okay, Dad, I'll do my best." Sam hung up the phone and headed back to the motel. When he arrived he immediately panicked. 

Not only was Dean gone from the room, but the Impala was missing also.

**~~~~~~~~~~**

** Part 2: Sanity, Thy Name Is NOT Dean **

Sam heard the familiar purr of the Impala's engine and turned, seeing the car chugging off towards the rear exit of the motel...and the highway. "OH NO!" The car was picking up speed, but Sam managed to catch up. He ran alongside it, and when Dean still didn't stop, he dove through the window, thankful it was open. Sam quickly found himself sprawled across the front seat, his legs hanging out.

"Outta my way!" Dean screamed, trying to disentangle himself from Sam's legs. "I can't see where I'm goin'!"

"STOP THE CAR!"

"NO!" Dean shoved him. 

Sam managed to turn over, but his head slammed into the passenger side door as Dean took a sharp turn. "I said stop the car. NOW!"

"And I said NO!" Dean then had the nerve to smirk. "Your overgrown, steroid-filled ass is in my way!"

"WHAT?!" Oh yeah, Sam was going to stuff a bar of soap down his throat. He tried to sit up, but Dean picked up speed and took another sharp turn and Sam banged his head again. 

"MOVE YOU OLD BAT!" 

Sam managed to look out the window, only to see a woman slam on her brakes as Dean cut her off, giving them the finger. 

"SO'S YOUR MOTHER!" Dean shouted at her, returning the gesture. 

Sam was attempting to reach for the key, intending to turn it off and damn the consequences to the Impala.

Dean hit the gas and took the car onto the main road. 

Sam was sprawled across the seat again, and **he** was slightly panicked. "Dean, please, I'm BEGGING you to stop."

"Ahh, stop being a wuss. Dad taught me to drive as soon as I was big enough to reach the pedals." 

Sam glanced out the window and saw an eighteen wheeler crossing the road. He closed his eyes, praying he saw Dean in the next life...just so he could kill him. 

But Dean's reflexes were quick and he swerved, avoiding the truck with ease. "Chill out, would ya? I know what I'm doing." He smirked again. "Do you?" He did however finally decide to stop. "Happy now?"

"Immensely," Sam breathed out and sat up, switching seats with Dean. Looking around he went into panic mode again. 

Dean had stopped in the middle of the train tracks. 

"OhGodohGodohGod!" Sam was pretty sure he was going to start hyperventilating, especially since the red lights were starting to blink. 

"You never played chicken with a train?"

"NO!"

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

Sam opted to not answer and started the engine, moving the car as the bars came all the way down. Catching his breath, and what little was left of his sanity (and wondering if Dean had **any** ) he headed back to the motel. He parked and went to the passenger side, forcibly dragging Dean out and into the motel room. "What are you doing? You're too young to drive."

"I was going to find my Dad and my brother. And **you** better be **real** careful with the car. Dad says she's his baby and if anything happens to her...."

" **I** better be careful with the car?" Sam really wanted to smack his brother, but knowing Dean, it wouldn't faze him at all. So instead he hit below the belt. "What would happen when your Dad showed up and you weren't here?"

"Aww, he's a great tracker, the best. He'd find me." Dean was **very** sure. 

Sam hit even lower. "And what about your brother?" He saw the frightened look on Dean's face and knew he had struck a raw nerve. "How do you think Sam would react if he got here and you were nowhere to be found? Or worse, what if you got into an accident?"

Dean's lower lip was trembling and his eyes welled with tears. "I...I don't know." The tears fell freely. "He...I just want...."

"What do you want, Dean?" Sam felt a **tiny** bit of guilt...a tiny bit.

"I want Sammy. And my Dad. But 'specially Sammy." 

The guilt was growing within Sam. He had **never** seen his brother cry and it wrenched his heart. "It's okay, Dean." He knelt down. "Your Dad will be here soon."

"I miss Sam." Dean's tears slowed a bit. "I want my brother." The tears started anew. "Is he okay? Is that why Dad left me with you? Please tell me Sammy's okay."

Sam had to bite back his own tears; he hadn't meant to cause Dean any real pain, just a touch of guilt. "Sammy is...fine, I swear to you."

"When is m-m-my Dad coming back?" 

"He'll be here tomorrow night." Sam reassured him and pulled him into a hug, deciding to forget what Dean did. His brother's inner pain was more than enough punishment. "Now quit your crying and let's eat some crap."

Dean ate his burger in silence, sneaking looks at Sam. "My brother, who you already know is named Sam, like you, he's six, almost seven." He paused, a smile finally coming to his face. "And I love him." 

"That's good," Sam smiled back. 

"I love him as more than a brother. He's my best friend."

"You're close, huh?"

"Yeah, it's just me, him and Dad. And Sammy, he's real affectionate. Sometimes he has bad dreams and he cries at night and I get into bed with him and hold him. He likes that."

"He still does," Sam murmured to himself.

"But sometimes I wish I was Sam," Dean added.

"Why?" Sam asked. "You're older and smarter, I'm sure."

"Older yeah, but not smarter. Sam reads way better than me. Dad said he's smarter than me and I gotta learn to hunt, 'cause that's all I'll ever be able to do."

"Dad...I mean, your father said that?" Sam was a bit incredulous. He remembered his father being verbally cruel on occasion, but to say that to a child....

"Only when he drinks too much." Dean dropped his burger, his eyes full of fear. "Please don't tell anybody that! They'll take me and Sammy away from him and we're all he's got!"

"I won't, Dean. I promise." Sam was again reassuring, thinking he was going to be doing a whole lot of that. While the older Dean seemed cocky and self-assured, the younger was a bit fearful. "And what makes you think that somebody would take you away?"

Dean was hesitant, but finally resumed his eating, feeling more comfortable around Sam. "I told a teacher once, and the police came and...and...we had to leave town awful quick. They took Sammy away, and Dad had to break into a house to get him back." 

Sam nearly choked; he'd never heard **that** story. Before he could ask about it, there was a knock on the door. Sam opened it to find the police standing there. 

"Sir, could you please step outside?"

Dean came forward, whispering, "Sam, what's goin' on?"

"It's okay, Dean." Sam smiled at him. "Don't worry."

While two of the cops talked to Sam, a female officer took Dean aside. 

"Hello, young man," she said with a smile. "And what's your name?"

"Dean."

"I'm Alice, Dean."

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

"I'm a police officer, Dean."

"I guess its okay then," Dean answered, knowing he'd have to talk to her at some point.

"Dean, let me ask you a few questions. First, did that man," she nodded to Sam, "hurt you in any way?"

Dean took a step back. "I...I don't understand."

"The motel manager said he dragged you into the room."

Even at ten, Dean was wise enough to watch what he said to **any** authority figures and he had a feeling he knew what she was talking about. He watched **a lot** of television. "Yeah, but that was because I was running across the street."

"So you were running away from him." She smiled again. "Dean, did he...touch you anywhere?"

Now Dean was **sure** he understood, and opted to play dumb. "Like where? He grabbed my arm to stop me from running into traffic. Does my arm count?"

"No, but...."

"What about my knee? I tripped and he put a band-aid there."

"No, son, but...."

Dean looked at her with wide and innocent eyes; this was too good. "Could you please tell me what you're talking about?"

"Uh," she was flustered, "your private parts." 

Dean glanced down at his crotch and screamed, "UNCLE SAMMMM!"

Sam pushed the two cops he was speaking with out of the way and immediately ran to Dean. "What happened?"

"She's a pevert!"

Sam didn't even try to correct him; he glared at the woman, and then looked at Dean. "What did she say?"

"She wanted to know if you...if you...Uncle Sam, she wanted to know if you touched my penis. I don't like her and I want to go back inside. I'm scared of her."

"I only meant...." Alice started, but Sam cut her off.

"When his father comes to pick him up tomorrow, I will personally see that you get a reprimand." Sam pretty much snarled at her. "Frightening my nephew like that. Where did you get your training? Happydale Police Academy?"

One of the male officers interrupted. "Sir, we have to...."

"Have to what? Do you assume that **any** child traveling with a man alone is being molested?"

"I'm afraid," Dean whimpered.

"He's always been told to trust the police, but now...." Sam had to fight back a laugh as he became theatric. "God, I hate to think what would happen if somebody **did** hurt him like that." He scooped Dean into his arms. "At this point he'd be afraid to tell **anybody**."

"Protect me, Uncle Sam."

"Cool it, Dean," Sam muttered. 

"Uh, look," one of the cops said, "the manager said that two men checked in a couple of days ago and they didn't have a kid. And then he saw you dragging this one into your room...."

"Even though I don't have to answer you, I will. He was dropped off yesterday by his father, who had to take care of a few things. And unless you're going to arrest me, I'm not saying anymore and I'm calling my lawyer."

The officer put up his palms up. "It's okay. We're sorry, but we had to check it out."

Sam just walked back into the room with Dean. 

The moment the door closed, Dean was wearing his smirk again. "We showed 'em, didn't we, Sam?"

"Yeah, we did," Sam reluctantly agreed. He looked at the clock and thought about something he'd seen in the motel lobby. "Dean, how would you like to go to the county fair?"

"Uh, I dunno, Sam."

"I know how much you love Ferris wheels."

"How'd ya know?" Dean asked. "We never do stuff like that. Dad says we don't have the time."

"Well I say we do." 

"Really?" Dean's whole face lit up. "Can I go on the Ferris wheel? And do go-carts? And eat cotton candy and caramel apples and...."

"You can do anything you want to, Dean, as long as you listen to me."

"Okay, Sam. I promise." He grabbed Sam's hand. "Well c'mon!"

Sam allowed himself to be led from the room, wondering if young Dean's exuberance, over something as simple as a county fair, would be the same if he became an adult again. 'No, Sam!' he mentally chastised himself. ' **When** , not **if**!' He just had to keep telling himself that. 

For Sam missed Dean - **his** Dean - so very, very much. And if Sam didn't get him back, he didn't know what he would do. 

**~~~~~~~~~~**

** Part 3: Fun, Winchester Style **

Sam looked at Dean, walking into the fairgrounds looking like...well, like Dean. He'd bought Dean some clothes after the transformation, explaining that Dean's had been stolen because they left his suitcase outside. 

And now Dean was wearing Levi's and a Led Zeppelin shirt that was a few sizes too big, although Dean didn't seem to mind. 

"You look pretty cool in that shirt, Dean."

"I don't get new clothes too often, Sam. Mostly we shop at Goodwill or the Salvation Army." He stopped in his tracks. "Is my Dad going to have to pay you back? Because we can stay inside to keep 'em clean, and we can return them when he brings the rest of my stuff."

"It's all right. I have some money and I can't think of anything else to spend it on right now."

"Then I can keep them?" Dean was beaming. "Really?"

"Yes," Sam ruffled his hair, "really."

"Wow, Sam, for an old guy, you sure are cool." 

"I like to think so." 

Once they got in, Dean dragged Sam to the Ferris Wheel. "It's my favorite."

Before they climbed on, Sam had a chat with the man running it, requesting that he stop it when he and Dean were at the top.

Dean seemed excited at first, seeing everything, but just as soon got quiet. "I want to go down, Sam."

Sam didn't question it and the moment they were at the bottom, Dean got out and sprinted off. By the time Sam caught up with him, Dean was sitting alone, tears falling down his face. "You gonna tell me?"

"The last time I went on one, I was with my mom." Dean was crying harder. "She loved 'em. It was her favorite ride...." 

"Oh, Dean...." Sam held him. "I'm sorry for bringing back bad memories."

"N-no, Sam, it's not a bad one, it's a good one. It's just that I miss her sometimes and I'm not supposed to cry. Dad said so. Only babies cry and I'm not a baby and it's the second time today and...."

All Sam thought was that when he saw his father, they were going to have more than a few words. No wonder Dean never cried...and seemed to abhor much emotion, calling Sam on it quite often. It had been drilled into him that it was wrong. 

"Please don't tell him, Sam." 

"I won't Dean, I promise you that also." Sam wiped his face. "I, uh, my mom died when I was...little. I don't remember anything about her. You think you'd like to tell me about yours?"

"You really want to hear about her?" Dean was down to sniffles now, calming. 

Sam felt kind of bad tricking his brother like this, but he had heard so little about Mary. John and Dean never talked much about her. And he so wanted to know. "I really would, Dean."

"Can I have a hot dog?"

"You can have two."

"Two?" Dean chewed on his lower lip. "Sam, that's a lot of money. I don't need two."

"Your Dad usually buys you one?"

"One for me, one for Sammy and I usually give him half of mine. He needs more food than I do."

Sam got Dean two, and watched him eat. He himself remembered Dean **always** sharing his food, and telling him to not tell their Dad, because Dean would get into trouble. Sam had always kept his mouth shut. Now he felt guilt over having such a voracious appetite as a child. Not as an adult, he still ate like a pig, but as a child, oh yeah.

"You gonna eat, Sam?"

"I'm kind of full, Dean. Why don't you finish mine." He placed it in front of Dean.

"Are you sure? You seem kind of skinny for a grown-up."

'And you seem underweight for a ten year old,' Sam thought. Aloud, "It's okay. I ate plenty."

"You sure you want to hear about my life?" Dean asked in between bites. 

"Well," Sam smiled, "your, uh, Dad did tell me some of it. Like how your mom died, and how you guys travel around the country hunting things."

"Sammy doesn't hunt yet." Dean grinned around a mouthful of food. "But he did kill a snail once. Poured salt all over the bastard and made it sizzle."

"I never knew snails were evil," Sam muttered, but Dean heard him. 

"That's what **I** said!" Dean finished eating and looked around, staring at one spot for a moment before turning back to Sam. 

"You want a caramel apple, Dean?"

"I don't know, Sam. We've spent a whole bunch of money so far." 

"Dean...."

"I get it," Dean nodded, with another grin. "You got a credit card, don't ya? That's where you're getting the cash. It's cool. Dad uses them all the time. Of course, like most hunter's, they don't belong to him."

"First off, I have actual cash," Sam told him firmly. "Second, how do you know about the credit cards?"

"Dad says I have sticky fingers and they come in handy. I can lift **anything**." Dean stood up and as Sam watched, he waded into the crowd, coming back a minute later with a wallet. "See?"

Sam snatched the wallet and walked over to a man, handing it back to him, explaining the man had dropped it, refusing a few dollars as a reward. He sat back down, shaking his head. "Dean, I don't want you doing that. It's wrong."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "My Dad says it's not and if you don't like it, tough shit."

Sam knew it was futile to explain the difference between right and wrong to his ten year old brother; he couldn't even explain it to the twenty-eight year old version. "All right. I won't argue with you."

"Damn straight!"

Visions of spoon-feeding Dean laundry detergent came to his mind, but Sam shrugged them off. He got them both apples and smiled again. "So, tell me about your mom...and Sammy...."

Dean was hesitant; he really wasn't supposed to talk about his life. But he felt so comfortable around Sam that he opened up. "I was glad Sammy was a boy and not a...a **girl**." He said the word with clear distaste. "See, the doctor made a mistake and told us Sammy was a girl. Freaked Dad out something awful. But then Mom pointed out that he could take a girl to football games same as he took me and he finally agreed girls were okay."

"You didn't want a sister?"

"I wanted another dog," Dean said firmly.

" **Another** dog?" Sam asked. He never remembered them having a dog. Then again, he was only six months old when his mother died. 

"Fletch was there before me...long before. Mom had him for a long time, even before she met Dad. He died a few months after Sammy was born and she said we could have another dog when Sammy got bigger." Dean frowned. "But then she died and Dad said no. Fletch was my best friend before Sammy, and Sammy would have loved him too."

Sam sensed a change in Dean and grinned at him, changing the subject. "How about we do the roller coaster?"

"Okay, Sam!" 

Five rides later Sam was being dragged to the midway, when Dean began to sing along to the song blaring from the loudspeakers. "My Mom liked that song."

" **That** song?" Sam blinked at him. "Dean, that's AC/DC's _Highway To Hell_!"

"Uh-huh."

**Now** Sam was more than curious. "What else did she listen to?"

Dean had to think. "She liked Led Zep and The Dead and Motown." Dean scrunched up his face as he thought some more. "But she **really** liked Wilson Pickett." He hummed a bit. "She used to dance with Sammy and sing _Land of a Thousand Dances_ to him when he wouldn't go to sleep."

Sam felt his eyes mist over. He'd **always** loved that song, more than anything, but never knew why. Now he knew. He **did** have a memory of his mother, a tiny one, but a memory nonetheless. He pushed the tears back and stared at the long row of carnival games. "Wanna play something?" Having worked the circuit with his family many times over the years, Sam knew good and well that many of the games were rigged and you couldn't win. But he still figured that Dean would have a good time. 

And Dean did, at first. Until they got to the fourth game and he lost again.

When they hit the next booth, Sam smirked at Dean. "Would you like a stuffed animal?" 

"I used to have one, before the fire. After, Dad said I didn't need 'em anymore, that big boys didn't have 'em." Dean seemed to perk up. "But I have Sammy now and he's better than some dumb stuffed monkey!" 

That remark once again warmed Sam's heart and he was determined to win something for Dean. It was a shooting game, hit three targets and win. So he picked up the rifle and aimed for the ducks, which were the hardest, but would get Dean the biggest toy. He missed all three times and Dean took him by the hand, ready to drag him away. 

"It's okay, Sam. I know you tried your best."

Dean looked so downcast, that Sam plunked down more money and picked up the rifle again. **This** time he made full use of the skills he had been raised with. He studied the gun, weighing it in his arms, aiming it, quickly seeing that the site was a bit off center. He stepped back to check the approximate size of the ducks and the space he would need to cover with his shots, recalculating his aim. 

This time Sam hit all three and smirked at Dean again, the two _high-fiving_ each other. 

"Which one do you want, Dean?" Dean pointed to the largest stuffed monkey. "Okay then." He was surprised when he was handed a smaller animal. "Uh, I hit all three, I get my choice."

"Yeah?" The carny snarled at him. "Well, I'm getting **my** choice and this is it."

A group of students, who all looked like quarterbacks, had gathered around the booth. And they looked ready to kick some ass. 

"Give the kid what he wants!" One of the boys shouted. 

"That's right!" another one added. "It says hit the ducks three times and get your choice."

"All right!" the carny agreed and looked at Dean. "Which one did you want, kid?"

"That one." Dean pointed to the largest stuffed bear. 

"I thought you wanted the monkey?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, but I'm going to give it to Sammy, and he likes bears. He's been afraid of monkeys since we watched _King Kong_." Dean was looking at the other stuffed animals. "You think I should maybe get him something else?"

"I think a bear is just fine," Sam nodded, thinking, 'Thanks for not getting the monkey, Dean. They still freak me out a little.' 

They walked to the car and put the stuffed bear in the back, then headed for more junk food. 

As Dean sat and waited, keeping an eye on Sam, he spotted a woman walking over and talking to him. 

Sam just shook his head and walked back to Dean, who was staring daggers at the woman. He picked up on it and said, "She was only talking to me, Dean."

"I don't like girls. They're weird." He ate more cotton candy. "When we lived in Yakima, that's in Washington, which is a state, this girl kissed me and it was YECCHH!"

Sam was thoroughly amused at that; the Dean he knew was a full-fledged Casanova. "Did you kiss her back?"

"Hell no! I gave her a bloody nose! Kissing me. That's dumb."

"Of course it is," Sam agreed. 

"Dad says I'm not gonna mind kissing when I get older, but I won't like it, not at all!" Dean nodded in a firm _so there_ motion.

"Of course not, Dean. It's yucky!"

"Sam, what did that girl say to you? Your face started to turn pink."

"Uh, it was nothing."

"Want me to go give **her** a bloody nose? 'Cause I will."

"It's okay, Dean, I swear. Now, it's getting late and your Dad will be here tomorrow. I think we should leave and get some rest." Sam held out his hand and Dean took it, the two heading toward the exit.

As they rounded one of the tents to get to the parking lot, the man from the booth was standing there, and he looked pretty pissed. 

"Nobody makes me look like an idiot," he sneered, approaching them. 

Sam rolled his eyes; he could take this guy on in his sleep. 

And of course Dean had to choose that moment to open his mouth. "Nobody could make you look like an idiot," he told the man. Before the man could answer, Dean continued. "You already look like a complete asshole."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose; a whole box of Tide seemed to be looming in Dean's future...the **near** future. "Uh, look," he started to say, but paused as two other men stepped near as well. "O-kay. This might be a little rough, but it's nothing I can't handle." He shoved Dean behind him, intent on protecting him, but Dean was still Dean and wouldn't allow it. 

"We can kick their asses, Sam, no biggie."

"Thank you," Sam sighed sarcastically and faced the men. "Look, all he wanted was a stuffed bear. We'll be happy to give it back. I don't want any trouble."

"WE WON'T!" Dean insisted. "I got it for Sammy!" He was quick, and charged one of the men, jumping against his chest and knocking him to the ground. 

"DEAN, NO!" Sam saw the fist out of the corner of his eye and easily blocked it, taking the man's fist in his palm and shoving him backwards. This was one of those times he appreciated his size. The other charged him from the left, but Sam drop-kicked him, and focused on the other. "I don't like to fight." When the first came at him again, Sam growled. "But I do when I have to." He quickly dropped the second one and turned to Dean. But he needn't have worried. 

The man was out cold and Dean was getting to his feet. "Size doesn't matter, you fucking dork." He casually took Sam's hand in his and began to walk. "That was fun."

"Fun?"

"Yeah. Last year, I was with Dad and his friend Bobby...er, do you know Bobby?"

Sam nodded. "Bobby Singer, from Rockham, right?"

"That's right. Anyway, there was a brawl and I helped them kick some serious ass!"

"When you were nine?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep. But I got into trouble."

Sam laughed out loud. "I just bet you did."

"No, Sam, not for fighting. Dad was real proud that I helped."

'Of course he was,' Sam thought, but aloud, "Then why'd you get into trouble?"

"'Cause I left Sammy alone at the table and he drank the beer and got sick. He spent the whole night barfing and it was...." Dean got in the car, suddenly silent. 

Sam got in, starting the engine. "You can tell me, Dean."

"At first I thought it was funny. But Sammy...he cried a lot. And then, when he got better, he forgave me and gave me a big hug. And shared a candy bar with me."

There were no more words spoken until they got back to the room. Dean took off his pants, but kept the shirt on. "Can I sleep in the Led Zep shirt?" 

"It's yours. I don't see why not." Dean crawled under the covers and Sam sat beside him. "Did you have a good time, Dean?" All he thought then was 'Please say yes, please say yes.'

"Uh-huh." Dean's face softened. "Thanks, Sam. For everything." He hugged Sam tight. 

"Good night, Dean." Sam laid fresh salt lines and went to the other bed, but he himself didn't sleep until he heard Dean's deep breathing and knew his brother was asleep. "And thank you," he whispered, "for helping me be a kid for the first time in my life." 

**~~~~~~~~~~**

Sometime during the night, Sam began to dream. 

Dean woke up as Sam's moans grew louder, and watched with horror as things began to move. 

First the chair lifted up and crashed back down, then papers flew off the desk, all over the room and the desk itself tipped over. The TV turned on and the windows began to open and shut on their own. 

Sam began to talk in his sleep, unintelligible words, but they too became louder, finally settling into cries of pain. 

The bathroom light turned on and off and the bath faucets poured out water. 

"OH SHIT!"

Sam shot up and looked around. "Dean? What happened?" He didn't see Dean, but did hear the noise at the edge of his bed. He sat up and faced a shotgun, and his brother aiming it at his head. As he got a look at the state of the room, he realized what had happened. 

Dean had explained some months ago that Sam's telekinetic ability seemed to manifest itself at full blast when Sam had nightmares. About the only reason he hadn't trashed any previous motel rooms this badly was because Dean had always heard him, and woken him, before things got out of hand. 

"Dean, this is not what it looks like. I can explain."

Dean cocked the rifle; he seemed ready to shoot. 

"Okay, I'll say the word and you'll put the gun down and we can talk." Sam took a deep breath. "Christo."

Dean's aim didn't falter. 

'I hope this works,' Sam thought, 'or I am one dead Winchester.' He concentrated on the gun and it flew from Dean's hands into his own. Dean ran for the door and opened it, but Sam shut it with a thought. 

Dean backed up, looking for a way out. He was terrified of Sam and Sam clearly saw it.

"Dean, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Are you a demon? If you hurt me, my Dad'll...."

"I won't hurt you. I could never hurt you." Sam put the gun aside and got out of bed. "Dean, do you know what telekinesis is?"

"No." Dean was still scared. 

Sam knelt down, thinking his size could be rather intimidating to his smaller brother. "Did you ever see the movie _Carrie_?" Dean nodded. "Well, that's what I can do."

Dean wiped his face. "Do you hurt people?"

Sam laughed a bit. "No. Well, only bad people, like those that try to hurt my father or brother. **Especially** my brother."

Dean nodded to him. "I don't know how, but I know you're telling the truth."

"I am." Sam went back to the bed and motioned Dean in next to him. He pulled the blanket over the two of them and smiled. "See, this power is still kind of new to me. Sometimes when I have nightmares, it sort of turns itself on."

"How do you stop it from making big messes?"

"When I travel...."

"You mean when you're hunting," Dean corrected. 

"Exactly," Sam laughed again. "When I'm off hunting, my brother is always with me. He wakes me up before I...make a big mess. And he holds me until I fall back asleep, and makes sure the bad dreams don't start again."

"If you want," Dean smiled, "I'll hold you. I told you, I hold Sammy when **he** has bad dreams and make them go away. I'll do it for you too."

"I'd like that." Sam shut off the light and felt Dean's small arm across his chest. 

"Sam, where's **your** brother? Did he die?"

"No. He's...not quite himself, but he'll be back soon."

"Why did he leave you? Did you have a fight?"

Sam pulled Dean closer. "No, we didn't."

"Do you miss him? Because I miss Sammy when we're apart, even if it's just for a few hours."

"Oh yeah, Dean, I do. But I know he'll be back soon, and that makes me feel better."

"Maybe...maybe when my Dad gets here, you can come with us. My brother would like you, 'cause you're cool." Dean giggled. "And you got the same name as him."

"Dean...."

"Please say yes, Sam. I like you and I don't want you to be alone."

In the darkness, Dean didn't see the few tears that fell down Sam's face. "We'll see, Dean."

"You promise to think about it?"

"Good-night, Dean."

Sam didn't see the hurt look that crossed Dean's face. "Good-night, Sam."

**~~~~~~~~~~**

** Part 4: Confrontations of the Winchester Kind **

Dean woke up by himself, thinking Sam had abandoned him, but then he saw the note Sam had left, telling Dean he'd gone to get them breakfast. He got out of bed and washed up, thinking about the previous day. 

He **so** liked Sam. 

Yeah, Sam was old, but Sam was cool. Sam had bought him the junkiest of junk food and helped him win a toy for his younger brother. He talked to Sam about his life, and Sam understood, Dean just knew it. Nobody had ever understood Dean before - well, with the exception of **his** Sammy. 

And maybe, just maybe, he could convince Sam to come along with his Dad and brother. It hurt him to think Sam would be by himself, all alone. That in itself was a strange feeling to Dean, caring about a stranger, someone he barely knew. He got dressed and stepped outside, a big smile on his face, wanting to hug Sam again, to thank him yet again for taking him to the fair. 

"Dean?"

The voice was familiar and Dean turned, facing his father. "Hello sir."

John stared down at the small boy and repeated, "Dean?"

"Are we leaving now?" Dean hoped his father said no, so he could get a chance to say good-bye to his new friend, on the outside chance Sam was staying behind.

"We're going to stay here for another day or so."

Dean was relieved, although he didn't show it. He glanced around and saw the truck, **knowing** it was John's. "Wow, a truck!" He searched the cab. "Where's Sammy?" Dean looked panicked. "WHERE IS HE?!"

"Dean, calm down." John tried to soothe him, but Dean backed up.

"Please tell me you didn't leave him with anybody. You promised you wouldn't do that anymore." Dean was not only accusing, he was seething with anger. "What did you do with Sammy? Are you drunk? Did you forget where you left him again?!"

"Dean, I never forgot where I left your brother. And Sam is...."

"NO!" Sam screamed as he came closer, hearing what his father was about to say. **He** needed to tell Dean first, make him understand. 

"I was wrong," John turned to Sam. "He **is** old enough to understand."

"Understand what?" Dean asked. 

"Dad, please, don't do this," Sam almost begged. Dean had trusted him and now John was going to mess it all up. But he didn't realize what he had called John. 

"Why are you calling him _Dad_?" Dean asked. "He's not your...."

"He's your brother, Dean!" John shouted without thinking.

Dean looked Sam over. "He is not. Sammy's a kid."

"Here!" John pulled out a recent photo of the three of them. "That's us. You, me and your brother." 

Dean took the photo and blinked back his tears. "No, this can't be."

Sam knelt down. "It is."

"But how....?"

"A witch," Sam told him. 

Dean stared at the photo and his mouth dropped open. He stared at Sam, fire in his eyes. "You lied to me!"

"I didn't, Dean."

"You got me to trust you, tell you my secrets and you were my brother all along!" He shoved Sam backwards. "I HATE YOUR FUCKING GUTS!" Dean ran into the motel room and slammed the door. 

**~~~~~~~~~~**

"This is your fault!" Sam screamed at his father. 

"What are you talking about, boy?"

Sam brought himself to his full height, which was a few inches over John. "Don't you **boy** me, you son-of-a-bitch!" He couldn't help himself, making a fist, pulling it back and slugging his father. The force of the punch was such, that John was knocked off his feet. "You turned him into what he is!" John started to get up and Sam hit him again. "No crying, no emotions, stealing, cursing, fighting...you took his childhood away, you BASTARD!" He was ready to hit John again, but this time John fought back. 

And so it began.

The two were evenly matched, John with weight, Sam with height, and they were both angry now. Punches were thrown, until both men couldn't fight anymore. They sat on the ground, both bruised, out of breath. Not only were they physically drained, but emotionally as well. 

"I'm surprised you haven't washed his mouth out with soap," John snickered. "He knows every curse word and then some."

Sam's mouth opened and shut a few times. He was finally about to speak, when John beat him to it. 

"I guess he cried also. Too many times I told him crying was for babies, but I saw him do it, and never said anything. I always had to put up this facade of _John Winchester, big, bad hunter_. And every time he cried, you got hysterical yourself."

Sam's mouth felt like sandpaper; he didn't know what to say.

John laughed a little. "I had him picking pockets and I know it was wrong, but we had to survive and sometimes that was the only way. And he was damn good at it too."

"He lifted a...."

"Sam, I thought about so many things while I was driving." John caught another breath. "I once told him he'd never be anything but a hunter, that he wasn't as smart as you. It's probably the most horrible thing a parent could say, and is most definitely what I regret most, because words can never be taken back." John wiped his hands over his face. "Sometimes I wish I'd have had alcohol-induced blackouts so I didn't remember all the shit that came out of my mouth. Don't cry, don't feel, be numb about everything because emotions can get you killed."

Sam was at a loss. He **really** wanted to fight some more, but his father had his own guilt and was very much aware of what he had done in the past. And yet...."Christo," he murmured.

"Don't start that shit with ME, Sammy. I am sure as hell NOT possessed."

"Then how come you're talking like that? It's kind of out of character for you."

"Because I had NOTHING to do for the last FOURTEEN hours in the truck but THINK!"

"Okay, Dad." Sam put his right palm atop his left hand, signaling a (temporary) truce. "And what if he doesn't change back?"

"If that happens, then I will give him the childhood I stole away the first time, let him be a kid. I'll get a house, settle down, and stop hunting." 

"Yeah, right," Sam sneered. "You don't know how to be a real Dad."

"I deserve that, Sam, but **only** that. There was a time, before...we used to cuddle and build with those over-sized Lego's and I'd tell him stories. I **was** a REAL Dad once, Sammy, a good one. Dean will tell you that."

"He already did." Sam actually laughed, but it was almost forced. "I think, as a ten year old, his memories are sharper, more clear. He told me stuff about mom that I never knew. Like about her musical tastes."

John let loose with an honest-to-God laugh. "Mary used to blast that noise all the time. Now Zeppelin or Sabbath or even The Clash, those I could deal with, but AC/DC, Judas Priest, Twisted Sister...that shit was fucking noise."

"Mom was into heavy metal." Sam went into a laughing fit, this time genuine.

"And punk. Halfway through our first date, she had me convinced Sid Vicious was God." John snorted. "By the time the date was done, I was going to suggest to my parish priest that Henry Rollins be granted sainthood."

"Henry Rollins? Of Black Flag?" John nodded and Sam was cracking up again. When he finally calmed, he asked, "Dad, don't misunderstand me, but why did you go out with her again? For some reason, I can't imagine you dating someone like that."

"It was her smile, Sam. I fell in love with it. So I asked her out again and...you know the rest."

"You knocked her up and had to marry her." The words were said with no malice and Sam was grinning.

"It wasn't my fault, Sammy. She pretty much dragged me into the back seat of the Impala and didn't even give me a chance to open the condom."

"TMI...waaaay TMI," Sam replied, turning bright red. "I didn't need to hear that." He paused. "About Dean, Dad, his language, damn, he curses more than you ever did."

"Uh, Sammy, your first word was _bushit_. That was followed by _Daddy_ , thank God," John smiled, "then _Dean_ , and for some reason, I seem to remember my toddler telling a waitress that she was an asswipe because the diner was out of chocolate syrup."

"I didn't!"

"You certainly did," John nodded. "Dean also taught you to curse in Latin and Aramaic," he added, "so people wouldn't understand that you were insulting them."

"Except for that priest in Georgia." Sam remembered. "He understood **exactly** what I said to him when we were in that church and filling containers with holy water."

John eyed the door. "I think we should go talk to him, Sam."

"Oh yeah. I owe him a **big** explanation."

They helped each other to their feet and walked into the room.

The first thing John noticed was the state of the room. "Sam....?"

"Nightmare. Telekinesis. No Dean to wake me up before I trashed it."

"We **really** have to work on this. You're going to lose your security deposit." John put up his palm. "I have to say it, it's a...a Dad thing."

Sam went to the bathroom and knocked on the door. "Dean, come on out. It's okay." No answer. "Dean?" He turned the knob, surprised when it opened, even more surprised to find no sign of Dean. "Oh, fuck, not again!" He pointed to the open window. "I have to look at the bright side though."

"There's a bright side, Sam?"

"Yeah," Sam laughed. "At least this time he didn't take the car."

"The car?" John growled. 

"You're the one that taught a ten year old to drive!" Sam calmed himself, knowing that if he didn't, his temper would overcome him again. That was the last thing he needed now.

"Where would he have gone?" John asked.

Sam looked out the window. "He went to the fairgrounds. I just know it."

"Why would he go there, Sammy?"

"It's **Sam** and I'll tell you that later also." He ran out the door, John trailing after him. 

"I want to know **now** , Sammy," John said, as the two got into the Impala and headed to retrieve Dean.

**~~~~~~~~~~**

** Part 5: Forgiveness **

When Dean saw his father and...brother...begin to fight, he decided it was his fault. And if he wasn't there, they'd be getting along. So he did the only thing a ten year old could do...he ran away, going out the bathroom window. Not knowing where he could go, he just headed back to the fair. 

Maybe he could get a job there, live with them, like they had when Dad had worked a carnival a few years back. They took in strays, and Dean was certainly a stray. He had walked around for about twenty minutes when he came face to face with a young woman. 

"Are you lost?" she asked sweetly, holding her hand out. 

Dean stared at her, and backed away, shaking his head. "You stay away from me!" He was frantic as he felt his pockets, realizing he had run off without **any** kind of weapon. Even at ten he'd **always** had a knife with him, tucked into his sock. 

"Look, kid," she said, "I'm going to take you to the cops and they can find your folks."

"Yeah, right, like I would go somewhere with a fucking succubus." The moment the words left his mouth, Dean knew they were the wrong ones. Especially when she showed her true 'form' and advanced on him. 

"I don't know how you knew that, but your soul is mine." She took a step forward, and then whirled at the sound behind her. 

"Get away from my brother!" Sam was standing there with his knife and he was pissed, and in fear for his brother. He lunged, but she was able to side-step him and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground. 

"How about instead of taking your soul, I tear your heart out?" 

Sam swung the knife, but she avoided it. 

"Uh-uh-uh." She grabbed his wrist and squeezed so hard that he dropped it. "Didn't your mommy tell you to never play with knives?"

"We don't have a mom," Dean said, as he picked up the knife and shoved it into her back, "and Dad never told us that." She dropped Sam as Dean pulled it out, and as soon as she turned around, the knife went into her chest. 

"How....?" she gasped out. 

"Pure silver, you life force sucking bitch." Dean watched her drop. "Don't fuck with a Winchester." He then focused on Sam. "SAMMY!" His brother was so still and Dean dropped to the ground. "Please don't die, Sammy. I didn't mean it, what I said. I don't hate you, I swear. I was just mad." He heard a noise and turned, facing John, uncaring of his tears. "Please, Dad, please don't let him be dead."

John noticed the slow rise and fall of Sam's chest and dropped beside Dean, holding his elder son as he hadn't in **many** years. "He's okay, Dean."

"I don't care if it makes me a baby. There's nothing wrong with crying. Sam...Sammy said so!" 

"No, Dean," John told him, "there is **nothing** wrong with it."

Dean pulled back. "Dad, you look like you went ten rounds with a demon."

"He did, Dean," Sam said as he sat up, grinning at John. "And I did too."

Dean broke away from John and hugged Sam. "You look like shit, Sammy." He was still crying, but he was also smiling with relief.

"Feel like it too," Sam groaned. 

"What are we gonna do about that thing?" Dean pointed to the dead succubus, still in its true form. 

"We're just going to leave it, Dean," John told him, looking around to make sure they hadn't been seen. 

The three left, going to the car and back to the motel. 

While John cleaned up, Dean and Sam sat on the bed.

Dean was holding his brother, still very upset over the words he had spoken earlier. 

"Dean, I forgive you. I think, if our positions were reversed, I would have said the same thing."

"Why'd you do it, Sammy?"

"I never heard much about Mom and I wanted to know. But mostly, I guess I wanted to know about you. Even now, at ten, **you** know you were much more like a second parent to me. I guess...I guess I wanted to know Dean, the kid, because I never met him before."

"Now that you know, what do you think?"

"I think he has a filthy mouth, a short temper and I happen to love him just as much as I love the twenty-eight year old version."

"Me too, Sammy," Dean nodded. 

John finished and Sam went in, letting the hot water cascade over him, cleaning the grime from his body.

Sam took himself in hand, stroking his hardened length, closing his eyes, thinking of the one he wanted, the one he knew he would never have.

Dean.

His Dean. 

Six foot plus, with penetrating eyes, broad shoulders, solid chest and the tightest ass Sam had ever laid eyes on. 

Oh yeah, Dean, a textbook Casanova, who laid anything with a pair of DD's and the occasional, if it couldn't be avoided, C cup.

God, if Dean knew Sam had been having fantasies about him, one of three things would happen.

One, Dean would kill him.

Two, even worse, Dean would laugh at him.

Or three, and the most horrible of all, Dean would leave him.

Dean wasn't homophobic, Sam knew that. Their father, with all his faults, had raised them that **everyone** had rights, except of course for the evil things that haunted the nights, and sometimes days. 

But they were brothers and that fact in itself was enough for Sam to keep his fantasies, and feelings, hidden. 

So, starting from the time he was about fifteen, and figured out his feelings, he'd kept the secret inside. But when Sam was alone, like in the shower, he could indulge himself. The stroking became harder, faster, Sam's mind wandering....

+++++++++++

_Sam was lying on the bed, on his stomach, Dean kneeling between his legs, kneading Sam's ass. "Dean, please...."_

_"Please what?"_

_"Touch me."_

_Dean dug his nails into the bare flesh, spreading Sam wide, rubbing the tip of his cock along the crack. "Like that?"_

_"No...need more...so much more...."_

_"Tell me what you want, Sam. I want to hear that Ivy League mouth of yours telling me **exactly** what your body wants."_

_"Want you, Dean, your cock inside me, all the way in my ass, so deep, so hard...."_

_"If that's what my Sammy wants, that's what my Sammy gets." Dean thrust inside with one fluid motion, pulling out until only the tip remained, holding him open, shoving inside again...and again...and again...._

+++++++++++

"Sammy? Are you okay?"

Sam's eyes snapped open at the young voice, right outside the shower. He pulled his long fingers from his ass and reluctantly tore his hand from his dick, which was still **very** hard. He hadn't had time to reach completion. "Fuck!" He nearly slipped as the curtain was pulled aside. 

Dean was tilting his head, his eyes staring into Sam's. "You were making funny noises and I heard you call my name."

"Oh," Sam had to think quick, "I, uh, forgot a towel,"

Dean laughed. "Silly Sammy. There's one right there." He pointed to the towel bar. 

"Of course," Sam forced a laugh. "Uh, Dean, where's Dad?" If Dean had heard him moaning, and Dad heard too....

"He went to get us Chinese. I told him to get you Lo Mein. You do still like Lo Mein, don'tcha Sammy?"

"It's Sa...it's perfect, Dean and yeah, it's still my favorite." Sam took the towel and began to dry off. "Dean, I know it's hard for you to understand, but I'm not six anymore and I need my privacy."

"I'm sorry," Dean frowned. "I didn't think." He began to back out of the bathroom.

"Dean?" Sam was smiling at him. "It's okay, I swear."

"Swear to Angus Young?"

Sam had to once again bite back a laugh. He had forgotten, that even at ten, Dean's favorite band had been AC/DC. "And to Bon Scott too."

"If you're swearing to Bon, then I believe you." Dean was smiling again and left, allowing Sam his privacy.

John came back with their meal and Dean picked at his. Sam finished his Lo Mein and Dean handed over his pepper steak. 

"It's okay, Dean; you eat," Sam told him. 

"Go on, Dean," John added, looking his older son over. "It doesn't look like I fed you enough when you were ten."

Dean smiled and wolfed down his food and then he turned on the TV. "Dad, do you love me?" he asked out of the blue.

"Very much, Dean."

"You don't say it anymore."

"I didn't for a long time, but I say it now." He motioned Dean into bed with him. "How about we watch some cartoons."

"Can I have a beer?"

"Fine with me," John shrugged. 

Sam disagreed. "Dad, you can't give him beer! He's ten!"

"Yeah, and....?" John narrowed his eyes and pointed to himself. "Father here, remember?"

Sam pointed to **himself**. "Adult here, remember?" he fired back.

"Yeah, yeah, okay, Carrie Nation," John muttered and handed Dean a soda, laying down with him, the two watching television

"Sammy," Dean said, "you can cuddle too if ya want." He turned to John. "Can't he, Dad?"

"Of course he can, Dean."

The moment Sam lay down, Dean snuggled into his tall body. "Sammy, am I going to get big like you?"

Sam glanced down at the hopeful face cradled in the crook of his arm. "Yes, Dean, you are. Big and strong."

"I do love you, Sammy," Dean wrapped his arm around Sam's chest, "even if you are old." He leaned up and kissed Sam on the cheek, then snuggled his face into Sam's chest again. After a few minutes, Dean cracked an eye open, his voice barely a whisper. "Safe to sleep? Windows and door salted?" 

"Let the grown-ups worry about it, Dean," Sam reassured him, kissing the top of his head.

Dean settled back, but murmured, "Dad sometimes gets drunk and forgets and I have to remember." He was almost asleep. "Have to take care of you, always take care of you. Daddy said so...my responsibility." 

Sam began to pet Dean's hair, holding him closer.

"He used to hold you like that, helping you to sleep." John smiled at the memory. 

"Dad," Sam asked, voice cracking, "who comforted Dean?"

John's smile quickly faded. "You did, in your own way. As long as you were there he was okay."

"Shit, it must have killed him when I left."

"You left me, Sam?" Dean asked, wide awake now and sitting up, pulling out of Sam's arms. "How could you?"

"I thought I wanted something else with my life." Sam didn't know what else to say. He'd lied to Dean enough already, so he opted for the truth. "I wanted normal."

"What's normal?" Dean asked innocently. 

Sam realized it was a **rarely** used word while they were growing up. "It's...." Sam looked at his father, then back at Dean. "I think this is, although I didn't know it for a long time."

"How old were you when you left, Sammy?" Dean asked. "Twelve? Fifteen?"

"I was almost nineteen, Dean and I wanted to go to college."

Dean seemed to ponder this. "Oh, that's okay then." He lay back in Sam's arms. "I thought you ran off to join the circus or something. But school, well, I can understand that. Dad always says you have a bunch of brains and they shouldn't be wasted."

Sam smirked at his father. "And what else did Dad say?"

"Dean...." John warned. 

The warning was happily ignored by Dean. "That you're smarter than Einstein, and that old Albert couldn't kill a demon if it were tied up and stuck in a Devil's Trap."

"He did, did he?" Sam's smirk grew malicious as John buried his face in his hand, clearly blushing. "What else?"

Dean was drifting off again. "That he loves you very much."

"I knew that, Dean." Sam attempted to stretch out, but didn't have much room. "Hey, bro, would you mind if I moved to the other bed?"

"Nah," Dean said. "Sweet dreams, Sammy. I'll be listening if you start to have a bad one."

"Go to sleep, boys," John ordered, looking from one to the other. 

"Yes sir," two voices answered him.

Dean snuggled into his father's arms, something he didn't remember doing for a long time. Looking up, he said, "I...I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, Dean. And I've missed you very much."

The smile on Dean's face could have lit up Los Angeles for a month. John glanced over at his younger son, seeing the same grin. "Sam...."

"Sleeping here, Dad," Sam laughed, turning over and doing just that. 

**~~~~~~~~~~**

John felt the weight on his chest and opened his eyes, seeing Dean, a fully-grown Dean, with his head laying there, his arms around John's chest, snoring peacefully. "Sammy?" John said. "He's back."

"Thank God," Sam said, watching Dean slowly wake and stumble to the bathroom.

They both heard the shriek from the bathroom and both hit the door, knocking it off its hinges. "DEAN!" John and Sam shouted, expecting to find a demon in there with him. 

Instead they found Dean staring in the mirror, sobbing. "I'm...I'm...I'm OLLLDDD!"

"Shit, Dad, I think he's still ten!"

"With a grown man's body," John groaned. "What the fuck did that witch do to him?"

"How should I know? You're the supernatural expert!" Sam fired back.

"Oh, so NOW I'm the EXPERT?!" John got in Sam's face. "I thought I knew nothing!"

Dean decided to interrupt them. "Uh, can I ask a question?"

"WHAT?!" They both screamed at him. 

Dean shirked away, sniffling as the tears slowly ebbed, the sad frown on his face again. "Why do you fight so much? Did something happen when I grew up? Was it my fault?"

John and Sam were taken aback, staring at each other, then back at Dean. 

"It's nothing you did, Dean" Sam told him, with a soft smile. 

"For a change," John added, "he's right. We're like oil and water."

"We blend, but we don't mix," Sam finished for him. 

"Because you're stubborn, **Sammy**."

"And you never listen, **Daddy**."

"Maybe I would if you said something constructive. _I'm going to Stanford, Dad. I can't live this life anymore._ " John quoted. "Not, _I've been thinking about college. Can we talk about it?_. Not _I'm going to college but we'll meet up sometime and go hunting._ Not...."

"You didn't want me to go!"

"YOU NEVER ASKED! YOU TOLD!"

"YOU WOULD'VE SAID...."

"I would have said yes, Sam," John said, voice lowered. "Maybe not to Stanford, maybe Kansas State, so at least you would have been close to...to home. But you went behind my back."

"Yeah, sure," Sam sneered, "You say that **now**...."

Dean's head was whipping from side to side, taking in their words. "He's telling the truth, Sammy."

"You don't know him, Dean," Sam blurted out. "You only think you do."

"I know when somebody is telling the truth and when they're lying. I **always** know. Mom said it was a gift, to be able to read people, to see through their lies and I'm **never** wrong." Dean's nostrils flared; the still ten year old with the now twenty-eight year old body was growing angry. "NEVER!" He pushed Sam without thinking, not getting the fact that his body was fully grown and Sam stumbled back, falling on his ass. "No more fighting! I don't like it, not at all!" 

Sam put his palms up in a sign of peace. "Okay, no more fighting." At Dean's disbelieving look, Sam amended himself. "We'll TRY."

"As long as you try, it's good enough." Dean looked at John. "You agree?"

"Yes, Dean, I'll try too."

"Okie-dokie, then. What's next?"

"Next up," John said, "is you tell me where that witch is so I can go have a little 'chat' with her."

"Dad, don't," Sam said. "What if she does the same to you?"

"Then, Sam," John laughed, "you'll have two Winchester's to raise."

**~~~~~~~~~~**

John eventually returned, and he didn't look very happy. "Before you ask, Sam, no, she can't do anything."

"Can't or won't?" Sam asked. 

"She was actually very sweet, although also very young, younger than she looks."

"Oh God, Dad, she doesn't know how to reverse it, does she."

"She **really** didn't mean for this to happen, Sam. The spell, as she read it, should have only kept him a child for a couple of days."

"As **she** read it?" Sam was waiting for the other shoe to drop, which of course it did. 

"I took a look at it, and called Missouri to confirm what I learned. The spell did keep him a child for a couple of days, but the rest of it...basically what it said, was that the child would be part of the man until a lesson was learned. Now what that lesson is, I don't know, and neither does she...or Missouri." 

"So now what?" Sam asked.

"Now we pack up and get out of here." Once the car was loaded, John said, "Follow me." He got back in his truck, and Sam followed in the Impala, Dean beside him. 

When they arrived at her house, she kept her distance from Sam. She was obviously scared of him, because he looked so angry, and she kept apologizing, until she was sobbing and in near hysterics. 

Sam finally accepted her apologies, but only after Missouri gave him an earful over the phone.

Missouri also told John the witch could be trusted, so he left his truck with her, emptying his weapons into the Impala's trunk first. 

The witch agreed to watch over it and promised to not use her craft again until she knew more of what she was doing. 

They got into the Impala, starting the eight hour or so drive to Rockham, and Bobby's. Bobby's parents had **both** been hunters, and if anyone could find a solution, it was him. And if Bobby didn't have an answer, he would know better than anyone who to call.

**~~~~~~~~~~**

A few hours later the men stopped in a small town for some food. 

While Sam and John were in the deli, arguing (of course) over what kind of sandwiches to get, Dean wandered a few doors down, and entered a bar. What caught his attention was the Pac-Man machine and he **really** wanted to play. It didn't take long for him to grab the attentions of a woman and he was feeling a bit uncomfortable. Females, human or otherwise, made him nauseous, unless they were hunters.

She was eyeing Dean like he was a piece of meat and Dean felt his cheeks turning red. He had no idea why she was looking at him like that, and he bit his lower lip when she came over, grabbed his ass, licked her lips and said, "Wanna buy me a drink?"

"Uh, I can't. I only had enough for the game."

"How about I buy us a couple."

Dean wasn't getting any bad vibes from her, she wasn't something evil, and so he just nodded. "Can I have a Pepsi?"

"Hey," a man walked over and sneered at Dean, "you messin' with my old lady?"

"N-no," Dean stammered. "She wanted to buy me a drink and I'm getting a Pepsi."

"You **are** messin' with her!" He hauled Dean up by his shirt and pulled back his fist.

Dean reacted, and punched him in the face, knocking him over a table. "I'm...I'm sorry." He held out his hand to help the man up, but was quickly hit, staggering back. "HEY! What was that for?!"

"You wanna step outside?"

"For what?"

"Oh, a comedian, huh?" Dean was pushed towards the door and they got outside at the same time John and Sam exited the deli.

"Oh no, what's he done NOW?" Sam asked aloud. "That guy's bigger than **me**. He's going to get his ass kicked."

"Great," John muttered, as the two walked over. 

Before they got close enough, the man from the bar pulled back his fist again, but Dean grabbed him by the wrist and twisted.

Not knowing his own strength as a grown man, he kept twisting, until he heard the bone crack. "Oh shit, Dad's going to kill me."

"DEAN!" 

"Oh yeah," Dean whined, "I am SO dead."

By the time John and Sam walked the twenty feet to him, a half dozen of the man's friends had come outside. 

"Sammy, do something."

"What am I supposed to do, Dad?"

John turned to him, staring as if his younger son was a moron. "Their bikes, knock them over."

"Huh?"

"Don't tell me you haven't mastered the basics of your power yet. I know you and Dean have been practicing."

"Yeah, with floating pens and lifting books. Remember what happened a few months ago, in Abilene? I know Dean told you. I still don't have much control over it." 

"So, look at this as a test run for something bigger," John smirked. "If you can trash a motel room in your sleep, you can certainly knock down a few motorcycles."

"Okay, but if something explodes, it's on your head." Sam focused all of his energy on the bikes and sure enough, they went down like a row of dominoes. But like he had said, he didn't have very much control over it yet, and too much energy was released.

Alarms on the street went off, fire hydrants shot water all over the place, and every storefront window around them shattered.

"I TOLD YOU!" Sam screamed, a car exploding at the same time he shouted. "Aww, shit, now look what I did. I hope that person is insured."

"Well, at least it's a distraction," John mused, not fazed in the slightest as a car door landed beside him. In typical John Winchester fashion, he just glanced at it and shrugged. "We'll work on it when we get to Bobby's." He called over to his elder son. "Dean! Time to go!"

Dean casually walked to the car. "Sammy, did **you** do all that?"

"Yeah."

"Waaay cool."

They got in the car, Dean in the back and the moment they began to drive, Sam turned, fuming. "What the HELL did you do?!"

"I didn't do anything!" Dean fired back. "This...girl..." once again the word was said with distaste, "she...she touched me on the...on my ass, I don't know why, and then that guy got mad, and he hit me and I...I defended myself!" 

Sam blinked at him. "You don't know WHY?"

Dean shook his head, his face a mask of **total** innocence. "It's a private place and Dad says nobody's allowed to touch you in places like that. I **was** going to hit her, but she seemed nice." He frowned. "I guess she wasn't though, was she."

Sam's face softened at the look. "No, Dean, she wasn't. And she shouldn't have done that to a ten year old."

"She shouldn't do that to **anybody** because it's wrong. Isn't that right, Dad?"

John opened his mouth, ready to make some smarmy remark, and then realized he was talking to a child. "That's right, Dean."

"Ya see, Sam. I was right."

"Dean," Sam began, "what were you doing in that bar anyway?"

"I wanted to play Pac-Man. It's my favorite. I was gonna challenge somebody to a pool game, 'cause I'm **really** good at it, but I'm not allowed to. Not after last time."

"Last time?" Sam glared at John. "What happened **last** time?"

"Aww, don't start fighting again and it wasn't Dad's fault. I seen him do it, it's called hustling, I think, and I wanted to make some money to get you that Bugs Bunny video you wanted." Dean seemed proud of himself. "I beat the guy fair and square, but then he got mad and didn't want to hand over the money."

Even Sam couldn't help his giggle fit. "What happened?"

"Dean said cheating somebody out of his winnings was wrong," John laughed, "and the guy's buddies told him Dean was right. He didn't like it so much and I had to intervene."

"And there was a big brawl. I told you about it, Sammy. That was the night you drank the beer."

"Okay, Dean" Sam said, "you can get away with it THIS time."

"I promise, Sam, no more fighting, unless I need to defend you." Dean nodded. "If you're in trouble, that's different."

"It's a deal, Dean."

"Spit and promise." Dean spit in his palm and held it out to Sam. 

Sam remembered the way they used to agree on things and did the same, the two shaking on it. "I promise, Dean."

"Me too, Sammy. Now, what'd you get to eat? I'm starving!"

**~~~~~~~~~~**

** Part 6: A Little Mayhem, A Bit Of Confusion **

They made it to Rockham in record time, John and Sam sharing the driving, stopping to switch drivers. For their next meal, they went through a fast food drive-thru. The only reason Sam didn't complain, not much at least, was that he was able to get a grilled chicken sandwich or salad. Despite the way he was raised, his stomach didn't handle grease as well as it used to. Dean asked him if he had an ulcer, to which Sam replied, "Not yet, but I'm working on it. And you help as much as you can." 

Dean, for his part, was quite happy in the car, sitting in the back with the stuffed bear, which Sam had named _Mister Wendigo_. Dean wanted _Bigfoot_ , but Sam firmly stated the bear was **his** , so Dean gave in. He spent his time engrossed in playing computer games and **really** enjoyed _Sudoku_.

John and Dean traded seats after a while, so John could rest his eyes. Dean made a crack about the 'mightiest hunter' taking naps, but John's look was such that Dean just laughed and shut up about it. Besides, Dean was having a really good time watching Sam drive. Once they got on the highway, Sam couldn't resist flooring it, zipping in and out of traffic, cutting around cars, getting more than a few curses thrown at him. 

"How come you complained when **I** was driving?" Dean giggled, as Sam cut off a truck, earning him a sneer from the other driver. " **You** drive like a maniac."

"I learned from the best," Sam deadpanned. 

"Aren't you afraid of getting a ticket?"

"Nope," Sam grinned. "I'm already driving with a suspended license."

"Why was it suspended?"

"Nine speeding tickets in the last year alone. Even though I paid them, and even went to a driving school in Pennsylvania, they still suspended me."

"How many do I have?" Dean asked. 

"You've got more, but you said you'll never pay them because you're dead." It took Sam a moment to realize what he had said, but Dean took it in stride.

Dean felt himself all over. "I feel alive to me. Am I a ghost, destined to walk the Earth forever?"

"No," John said, explaining what had happened in Saint Louis.

"Cool," Dean grinned, "then I can do **anything** I want, 'cause you can't persecute a dead man."

"That's prosecute, Dean," Sam corrected. 

"I **know** what I said, Sammy. I ain't that stupid, no matter what...." Dean didn't finish the sentence, lowering his eyes.

Sam slowed down, pulling the car over and turning to John. "I think you need to tell him that he's smart and that if **you** had any brains, you would never have told him he was stupid, and that he **could** have gone to college if you'd have let him."

For what was probably the first time in his life, John Winchester was totally cowed. "He's right, Dean." John gave him a half-smile. "I was so caught up in hunting, and having you by my side, that I said things that would keep you there."

"I forgive you," Dean said, "because I know you love me and that's all that matters."

"Thank you, son," John answered, ruffling his hair. "That means a lot to me."

"C'mon, Sammy!" Dean shouted. "Let's get to Bobby's already! He makes the best German Chocolate cake and it's my favorite dessert."

"Okay," Sam said, "but only if you and Dad switch again, so you can get some sleep. It's at least another three hours to Rockham and you didn't get enough rest last night." He was quite thankful that Dean didn't argue and did as he was told.

By the time they arrived at Bobby's, it was almost two PM. The three were so tired that they sacked out for a while and Bobby said he'd wake them around six for some dinner. 

As they sat around the table, they talked about trivial matters, but all Dean wanted was his cake. Afterwards, John and Bobby began to talk about the upcoming Super Bowl, and since neither Dean nor Sam were interested, (both boys preferred basketball) they went to get showered and into some fresh clothes.

Dean walked into the bathroom just as Sam was getting out of the shower, looking his brother up and down, pausing for a moment before running out. As soon as Sam came out, Dean ran in, glancing at his brother again before slamming the door shut.

**~~~~~~~~~~**

As he stood under the spray, Dean thought about Sam naked; he couldn't help himself. His penis took immediate notice and swelled, and Dean's hand moved to it, examining it, wondering why it felt so...hard. He wrapped his fist around it on instinct, jerking a few times, watching it spurt come, the swelling going away. 

He had absolutely **no** understanding as to why this was happening, but he knew in his gut it wasn't wrong, so he thought about Sam fully dressed, thinking the feeling would go away. 

It didn't.

And when he pictured Sam smiling at him, he couldn't help the soft moan, jerking himself off some more and coming again, the relaxed feeling washing over him. He finished up and got out, drying off. 'Wow,' he thought, 'I gotta ask Sammy about this.' Thoughts of his brother were making him hard yet again, and for some reason he thought about ice and snow and that succubus, and the swelling went away. 'I **really** gotta ask him, 'cause I don't think this should be happening so much.' 

Dean shrugged it off for the moment, and his eyes stared into the mirror, seeing the growth of beard stubble. He grinned as he picked up his father's razor, lathering with the shaving cream as he'd seen John do, and began to move the razor along his face.

Sam grew concerned when the shower went off and Dean still didn't come out for almost twenty minutes. He knocked on the door, opening it slowly. "Dean?" Dean's face was covered with drops of blood and Sam dropped his coffee cup. "Dean, what happened?"

"It was itchy so I used Dad's razor and...this happened." Dean touched his cheek and winced. 

"You used a straight razor? Come here, let's fix you up." Sam blotted Dean's face, seeing all the nicks and one big cut near his throat. "You could have sliced your jugular."

"It looks easy when Dad does it," Dean said, pushing Sam's hand away. "No more, Sammy. You're making it worse. And how **do** I shave?"

"Electric razor," Sam told him. "I don't, and you can't watch when I shave, because you're convinced I'm going to cut **my** throat."

"It hurts, like bee stings."

"Come here, Dean." Sam hugged him. "It'll heal. Next time it itches, you tell me and I'll take care of it. 'Kay?"

When Sam let him go, Dean looked **very** confused. "Sammy, I feel funny."

Sam panicked. "How so, Dean?"

"When you hugged me, I...it hurt a little."

"The hug?"

"No," Dean said, "there." He pointed to his boxer-clad crotch, which showed a **very** obvious erection. "It happened when you came out of the shower also. I was leaking in my pants. And when I was in there, I touched myself and thought of you and it **really** leaked, like a dam busted open or something!"

"Oh Dean...." Sam didn't know how to react. **This** was not something he was prepared for, not at all. For some reason, he had assumed that Dean, even at ten, knew everything there was to know about sex.

"What's wrong with me, Sam? It didn't happen with Dad or Bobby when they hugged me. Only with you. And...and my stomach does flip-flops when you smile at me." He looked about ready to cry. "Sammy, I think I'm allergic to you."

Then the floodgates opened.

Hearing the loud wails, John and Bobby ran inside. 

"Sam, what did you do to him?!" John snapped, taking his elder son into his arms, trying to soothe him. 

"I didn't do anything, Dad!" Sam shouted at him. "He...."

"I'm allergic to SAAAMMMMYYYY!" Dean sobbed, burying his face in John's shoulder. 

"Allergic?" Bobby asked. "Maybe it's a side effect of the change."

"Oh, I wish it were just that," Sam told him. 

"Then what?" John asked. "And what happened to his face?"

"I think he should tell you...and I'm booking the first flight out of here." Sam couldn't help the smirk. "And I think you need to teach him to shave...and give him 'the talk'."

"What talk?" John asked. 

"You'll find out." Sam walked out and Bobby followed. 

There were a few minutes of quiet in the other room, then John's bellowed "WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" and quiet again. 

"I think Antarctica would be good," Sam muttered.

"Are you going to tell **me**?" Bobby asked. Sam did, but Bobby just laughed. "I wondered how long before this came out...before Dean came out."

"You knew about THIS?!" Sam sputtered.

"Dean likes men, but he has yet to meet a piece of pussy he didn't like just as much."

"Neanderthal. And you said until **this** came out." Sam was fuming. "You knew how he felt about me."

"I didn't **know** ," Bobby corrected. "But I suspected. And no, there wasn't an ice cube's chance in FUCKING HELL, that I could have said anything. John would have killed me for even SUGGESTING it, Dean would never speak to me again, and you...you probably **would** have taken off for the South Pole."

"You are **way** wrong about that," Sam bluntly told him. "If anything, I would have confronted him, and maybe I wouldn't have left all those years ago. At the very least, I would have dragged his ass to California with me, kicking and screaming or bound and gagged and stuffed in the Impala's trunk if necessary."

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Sammy, are you telling me that you....?" He waved his hands about.

"Since I was about fifteen."

"What about Jessica?"

" I **did** love her, I **do** like women and only women. With the exception of Dean, I don't like men." He wiped his hands over his face. "God damnit, Bobby, what am I going to do?"

"Kid, this is one I **can't** help you with." Bobby nodded to the closed door. "Can I assume that's what Dean is telling him?"

"Ohhh yeah," Sam laughed, a bit nervously. "Should I duck and cover? Arm myself? Maybe cry?"

"Your Dad'll find you, he'll disarm you, and at your age, he won't give a flying fuck that you're teary-eyed."

"Great," Sam sneered. "As if my life wasn't rough enough right now." He reached for the bottle of bourbon, but Bobby stopped him. 

"Sam, you can't hold your booze worth shit, and when you do drink, you whine, cry and throw up, though not necessarily in that order." Bobby snatched the bottle from his hands. "You think Dean needs to see you like that?"

"Touché," Sam replied. "I just don't know what to do."

"Let the cards fall where they will, Sammy, and deal with it later."

Resolving himself to that, Sam sat down and waited.

**~~~~~~~~~~**

John finally came out, red-faced and pissed, and Bobby motioned Sam outside. 

"John," Bobby began, "in a perfect and normal world this wouldn't happen. But the world isn't perfect and **our** world is as far from normal as you can get." 

"You condone this?"

"Doesn't matter how I feel, now does it."

"C'mon, Bobby, Dean is still a ten year old inside!"

"And Sam would never do anything to hurt him!" Bobby screamed. "No more so then Dean would ever hurt Sam!"

"But...."

"No buts, John."

Dean came out of the bedroom, all dressed. "Okay, Dad, I'm ready to go with you now."

Sam ran in when he heard what Dean said. He got between his father and brother. "You're not taking him away." He was growing angry and it showed. "I won't let you."

Dean got the gist of what Sam was inferring and backed up a few steps, away from his father. "I don't want to leave Sammy."

John rolled his eyes. "I'm only...."

"Please, Dad," Dean looked frightened. "I don't know what I did wrong, but I won't do it again, I promise you."

"You're **not** taking him away," Sam repeated, grabbing Dean's arm. 

"We're going...." John began.

"NO!" Sam shouted, pulling Dean close. "I won't let you!"

"All I want to do is take him to a movie," John sighed. "Jesus, Sam, do you **really** think I'd take him...away? Out of ANYTHING I've ever done in your lives, how could you possibly think I would do something like that?"

"I want Sammy to come with us," Dean said, gripping Sam's arm like a vise. 

"Dean," Bobby said softly, "I think your Dad just wants to spend some time with you, that's all." He glared at Sam. "He wouldn't do that, Sam, and he's right. You should know better than that. And you're scaring Dean."

"Sam," John said, "I promise, no, I swear on your mother, I will bring your brother back. I just want a few hours alone with him."

"I won't let him take me away from you, Sammy," Dean stated with certainty. "I'm big now and I can make my own decisions." He did however look at Bobby for confirmation, which he got in the form of Bobby's own nod. "See? Nothing to be afraid of."

Sam reluctantly nodded and took Dean's hands in his. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay, Sammy." Dean followed his father out and it wasn't until the Impala sped off that Sam lost it. 

"He's always been able to manipulate Dean, even an adult Dean!" This time it was Sam who felt ten. "If he takes Dean away, I'll never find him again. Dad's too good at hiding."

" **Now** you can have the bourbon." Bobby poured them each a shot. "Sam, he'll bring Dean back. Your brother's too frightened to be without you and John knows that."

"What if....?"

"What if...what if...." Bobby chuckled and they both drank a shot. "What if they bring back 'Friends'? What if they make 'Jaws 5'? What if Marcia and Jan were lesbian lovers?" Bobby saw Sam's lips twitching. "Alice and Carol?" 

"OH GOD!" Sam couldn't help the laugh. "You're a sick, sick man."

"Yeah, but at least I made you laugh." Bobby poured them a second shot. "There, that's your limit. Now, let's sit down, get comfy, and play us a few hands of gin. I believe," he went to a desk and pulled out a piece of paper, "when last we left off, you owed me thirty-seven thousand, three hundred and twelve dollars and eleven cents."

"And you owed me two pints of blood, a kidney and your spleen," Sam snickered.

"That's because you're gonna be a rich lawyer someday and the only thing I have that's worth anything are my body parts."

"Deal 'em, you poor piece of white trash," Sam giggled some more. "Because this time I'm taking kidney number two."

**~~~~~~~~~~**

John **had** taken Dean to a movie, but afterwards, he took him to a club. One hour later they came out, John smiling at his older son. "Well, Dean, what did you think?"

Dean chewed on his lip, which he had done as a child when he was deep in thought. "I think, that it felt good when she...well, you know...."

"I'm glad," John said, happy that Dean **had** felt something while that stripper gave him a lap dance.

"But not as good as when Sam hugged me," Dean added, almost as an afterthought. "Sammy felt good-special. That girl, with her, it just felt plain good." John opened his mouth, but Dean shook his head. "Let me finish!" John shut his mouth. "Sammy would never hurt me, or use me for anything or...or let anything bad happen to me. He'll always take care of me, just like you do. And I know he left once, but inside, I just know he'll **never** do it again."

"Dean, do you know what incest is?"

"No, and I don't care! Sammy loves me and that's all that matters! Just like with you!"

Once again John was cowed, this time by Dean, but that didn't stop him from speaking again. "Dean, incest is when two relatives have sex together, and it's wrong."

"I don't wanna have sex with Sammy!"

"That's good."

"At least I don't think I want to."

"Dean...."

"And if we did, why would it be wrong anyway? He loves me and I love him. Isn't that what people in love do?"

"Not brothers."

"Why?"

"Because it's incest and it's immoral."

"What's immoral?" **That** was a word Dean didn't know.

John was growing frustrated. "It's illegal also."

"Since when have you cared about **that**?"

"Get in the car, Dean."

"NO!"

"Get in the FUCKING CAR!"

Dean blinked back tears. "Are y-you taking me back to S-S-Sammy?"

John had **completely** forgotten he was talking to a child, and lowered his voice. "Yes, Dean. I promised you."

"Yeah? Well you sometimes break your promises." 

"Not about this, Dean. I will **never** separate you and your brother."

Dean seemed satisfied and finally got in the car. 

**~~~~~~~~~~**

It was almost one when the Impala drove up and the moment it stopped, Sam, who had been pacing outside, pulled John bodily from the car. "Where were you?!" He was seething. "I tried to call you, but your fucking phone was off!"

"We went to a stripper club," Dean said matter-of-factly.

"You took a ten year old to a strip club? Are you insane?!"

"And a girl sat in my lap and it was nice." Dean flushed pink. "I guess I will like girls when I grow up, huh?"

"Dad, **you** need to be more responsible." Sam let him go. "Taking him to a...."

John was growing angry at his younger son's recurring interference with his older son. "If I want to take him to a strip club.... **my** son, your **brother**."

The words were like a knife through Sam's heart and it showed on his face. His mouth opened, but no words were forthcoming.

"That was a cheap shot, John," Bobby told him. 

"You're doing it again!" Dean screamed. "Can't the two of you spend five minutes together without fighting?! I need to call...."

"Need to call who, Dean?" John asked. 

"Jim. You always listened to **him**." 

"Oh God," John and Sam murmured.

"Neither one of you told him?" Bobby asked, voice shaking.

"No," both answered. 

"Tell me what?" Dean asked. "And why can't I call Jim? And if I can't call Jim, then how about Caleb? You always listened to him too."

John ran his fingers through his hair. "Jim and Caleb...."

Dean just knew something was wrong. "What? Please tell me."

"Dean," John said, "Jim and Caleb are dead." He lowered his eyes, fighting back tears he didn't even know he was capable of shedding anymore. 

"How?" Dean asked. But when nobody answered him, he knew. "It was the demon, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Sam answered him **very** softly. 

"Did they go out fighting?" 

"They sure as hell did, Dean," Bobby told him. 

"Then it's okay," Dean nodded. "I'll miss them, and I guess...." He looked at Bobby. "I guess **you're** the only one that can talk sense into him now."

"Me and Missouri," Bobby chuckled.

"Who's Missouri? I heard you and Sam talking about her, but who is she?"

"She is our greatest protector," Sam allowed himself a small laugh. "Dad and Bobby are both afraid of her..."

"I AM NOT!" John and Bobby both told him.

Sam ignored them and continued, "...but she does love US, although she does threaten to cut a switch and whip your ass all the time, or beat you upside the head with a spoon. And if Dad doesn't stop his bullshit, well, I don't care what time it is, I'm going to get right on that phone and tell her he's being a total asswipe."

Bobby's cell went off and he looked at the caller ID. "Speaking of the southern psychotic...I mean psychic...." He took the call and held the phone away from his ear. "Don't yell at me, _Kreskina_ ," he snickered, listening to her. "Hey! **I** didn't take him to a strip club!" He glanced at Sam. "And I have **no** control over **his** foul mouth...or either of their libidos." 

"What's a libido?" Dean asked.

"Wanna field that question, Dad?"

"Not me, Sam," John said, turning red, which had both boys laughing.

Bobby was starting to laugh too. "Oh yeah, a whole box of Tide...for all three of them, especially Sammy." He handed the phone to John. "Oooh, you're in deep shit now, John-boy."

"Fuck you."

"Only if you buy me dinner first," Bobby smirked, "because I ain't as easy as you are."

John walked off with the phone, his voice low, followed by some **very** loud cursing, "Dean", "Sam", and a totally shocked, "What the FUCK are you talking about? I think he's right and you ARE psychotic!" He came back and tossed the phone to Dean.

Dean listened to her, and he just kept nodding, and saying, "Uh-huh" and "Yep". Then he was grinning and asked, "Are you gonna hit me with your spoon?" Some laughter on his part, and then Dean got serious and glanced over at Sam. "I think." One more "Uh-huh," and he handed the phone to Sam. 

The conversation was pretty much the same, with Sam repeating, "Yes, ma'am" and "No, ma'am" and "I promise". He gave Dean a big smile. "I will". He hung up. "I have to take care of Dean."

"And I have to take care of Sammy," Dean added. "Can we go shopping? I want some games. I'm bored."

"It's the middle of the night, Dean," Sam told him.

"And....?"

**~~~~~~~~~~**

They were all glad that Wal-Mart was open twenty-four hours. The store was pretty much deserted at three am. John told Dean he could have **anything** he wanted.

"Anything?" Dean asked.

"Anything, Dean," John told him. Dean was wearing a big grin and John found himself facing a smirking Sam yet again. That look, which John associated with Dean, was beginning to get on his nerves. "What? I'm just trying to make up for all the times I had to say no."

Dean ran off to the toy section, and along the way he spotted a pair of pajamas and insisted on them, along with a sheet set. But before he got to the toys, he spotted the sporting goods and his eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store. He had the clerk taking out all kinds of guns, holding each one like **they** were toys. Dean's eyes grew even brighter at the hunting knives and he quickly picked out two.

"Uh, is he okay?" the clerk asked, as Dean drooled over a ten inch knife.

"He just **really** loves to hunt," Sam explained. 

"I want that one and that one...." Dean pointed to the largest. "And especially **that** one."

"No, Dean," Sam told him. "You've got enough at home."

"Aw, c'mon, Sammy," Dean whined, "you can never have enough blades. And what about **that** gun? It's bigger than...."

Sam grabbed his arm. "I said no, Dean."

"Geez," Dean muttered, "not only did you get old, you got stuffy too."

The moment they were out of sight, John and Bobby purchased what Dean wanted and they took the packages outside. They waited for the boys, who came out about a half an hour later.

"Board games," Sam explained, holding up two large bags. "And a new friend for Dean."

John and Bobby laughed out loud, they couldn't help it.

Dean was holding a huge stuffed monkey. He insisted that the monkey ride in back with him, leaving almost no room for Sam. "I'm gonna call him _Kong_."

Sam just rolled his eyes. There was no way that monkey was going to have that name...uh-uh, no way, no how.

**~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean got changed for bed, and came out to say good-night. He hugged Bobby, and kissed his father on the cheek, which brought a smile to John's face. "Tuck me in, Sammy?"

Sam took him by the hand and led him to bed, placing the two stuffed animals beside his brother. 

"Sam, if I don't...grow up soon...are you going to stay like ya said?"

"Of course I am, Dean," Sam reassured him. "I'll never leave you. I did it once, and it was a big mistake."

"You're never going back to college?"

"Maybe, some day, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay?"

"I love you, Sammy, and if you want to go back to school, it's fine with me. I swear it."

"Swear to Bon?" Sam grinned. 

"Totally. And to Brian Jones and Keith Moon too!" Dean paused, thinking. "Sammy, what's incest?" Even though John had explained it, he wanted clarification.

"Dad tell you that word?"

"Yeah."

Sam kissed his forehead. "It's nothing for you to be concerned about, Dean. I'd never do anything to hurt you, never use you, never...."

"That's what I told Dad," Dean smiled, "when he explained it to me."

"Oh, so he did tell you, huh? Did you think you'd get a different answer from me?"

"I dunno, maybe. But when I told him you'd never do anything bad to me, he actually, really, shut up."

"He's a good man, Dean, and if you ever tell him I said that...."

"Never, Sammy. I promise you."

"Go to sleep, big brother, and tomorrow I'll teach you how to play Risk."

"You gonna stay until I fall asleep?"

"You bet."

"Read to me?"

"Okay, Dean." Sam picked up a book and began to read, watching Dean's eyes slowly drift shut, a look of peace on his face. He brushed his fingers along his sleeping brother's cheek. "No matter what happens, Dean, I will always be with you." He placed a chaste kiss to his brother's lips. "I love you as more than a brother, and I'm just sorry I didn't tell you a long time ago. Maybe someday I'll be able to tell you, and I just hope you'll forgive me."

**~~~~~~~~~~**

** Part 7: I Am Dean, Hear Me Roar **

The conversation with Missouri was such that John picked up a bottle of whiskey and sat out on the porch. Damn that woman. Too fucking perceptive for her own good; hell, for everybody's good. She knew **exactly** what was going on in his head....

++++++++++++++

_"John, you knew this was coming."_

_"I didn't FUCKING KNOW! Where do you get this Goddamned BULLSHIT FROM ANYWAY!"_

_"I didn't need to be psychic to see how they felt."_

_"Dean and Sam? I don't think so. I think your power's gone screwy. Been struck by lightning lately?"_

_"Those two have been in love for **years** , and denying what Dean told you is not going to change things."_

_"Dean and Sam do not...."_

_"Not yet, John. Nothing will **ever** happen between them while Dean is still a child, so stop thinking that Sam is going to molest him and take advantage of him. Sam would die before he caused Dean any pain and you damn well know it!" Missouri couldn't help her laughter. "Now, about you and Bobby...."_

_"What about us?"_

_"Maybe dinner **would** be a good idea for the two of you."_

_"WHAT?!"_

_"John Winchester, you sleep with **anyone** when you get the urge and you've never been very picky. So get your head out of your ass and take your **own** look around. You've got a man that loves you and has for a very long time and I **know** you feel the same way. All you have to do is admit it to yourself, because Bobby already has."_

_"What the FUCK are you talking about? I think he's right and you ARE psychotic!"_

_"Whatever. Now put Dean on the phone."_

++++++++++++++

"This is your fault," John said, as he heard the door open behind him, knowing it was Bobby. 

"She told you, didn't she?" Bobby sat beside him and took a swig from the bottle. 

"I already fucking knew. I'm not dense."

"I know you knew, but you didn't know that I knew, and I couldn't say anything until **I** knew that **you** knew for sure."

"You sound like Sammy when he's had too much to drink," John mused. "Can you repeat that? English or Latin or even Swahili would be fine."

"Sure," Bobby nodded. "You want to take me to bed?"

John stood, and pulled Bobby to his feet. "What about dinner?"

"We'll do that tomorrow. And Johnny, I'm not a cheap date, so I hope you have a Visa with a decent credit limit."

"Get in there!" John shoved him into the bedroom and shut the door, looking around for something to gag Bobby with. He didn't want either of his boys, **especially** Dean, to come in and start asking questions. 

**~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean was lying in bed after Sam left, pretending to be asleep. Sam had kissed him on the lips, and his penis was hard again and he couldn't get it to go away. So he touched himself like he had earlier, because his father had said that it was natural. John had called it 'masturbating' and that boys, and men, did it, and that there was nothing wrong with it. Sam didn't say anything bad about it either, so Dean figured it was okay. 

He came so quickly he nearly yelled for Sam, but as he didn't want to scare his brother, he kept quiet. He'd tell Sam tomorrow. 

"And maybe," he whispered to himself, "if it happens to Sammy too, I could do it to him!" 

For a moment he was confused again, because Dad had always taught him that nobody had the right to touch his private parts. But his Dad **did** also say that there was nothing wrong with touching yourself. So his ten year old mind reasoned that if it was okay, and not wrong, than he and Sammy could do it together. After all, they did everything else together, so why not that. It wasn't as if Sam was a stranger; he was Dean's brother.

And if it made them both feel good, that was even better!

Satisfied with that final thought on the subject, he got out of bed and cleaned himself up. 

Dean got back into bed, and his thoughts wandered to what Missouri had said to him. 

++++++++++++++

_"Dean, you know your father loves you, right?"_

_"Uh-huh."_

_"And you know Sam does also."_

_"Yep."_

_"Being a child is pretty tough, isn't it?"_

_"Yep. And are you gonna hit me with your spoon?"_

_"Not until you're big again." Missouri paused. "Dean, I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to answer me honestly; don't be afraid. Do you understand?"_

_"Uh-huh."_

_"Do you **really** know how Sam feels about you?"_

_Dean looked at Sam, and saw the smile directed at him. A wonderful feeling came over him, from the hair on his head to the tips of his toes. "I think."_

_"Even though you're ten, he needs you very much. He was so lost without you when he went away, and it took him a **long** time to figure it out. No matter what happens, you need to take care of him." She paused again, letting her words sink in. "And Dean, your father and Sam love each other too. They're so much alike, though neither would **ever** admit it, and that's why they butt heads. Do you understand that also?"_

_"Uh-huh."_

_"Good. Now put your brother on the phone, because there are a few things he needs to hear."_

++++++++++++++

Dean wasn't one hundred percent sure he knew what she was talking about, but he somehow knew that Sam cared more about him than he let on. For some reason, his brother was holding something back, and Dean didn't know what it was, or why. But it **was** something he intended to find out in the morning, and Sam was going to tell him, even if Dean had to tickle him until he cried.

**~~~~~~~~~~**

Sam had taken a walk to the lake, sitting against a tree, staring into the night sky. He finally allowed a few tears to trickle down his face. "Who's the ten year old **now** , Sammy?" he muttered. "Look at you, crying like a baby. You should be thankful you have Dean at all, that he's alive, and that he loves you unconditionally." More tears fell. "Oh sure, unconditionally. He feels a sexual attraction to you, something you've wanted for years, and now that you get it, he doesn't even understand it." Sam's cell went off and he jumped; out of habit he'd taken it with him. He didn't even look at the caller ID as he answered. "What?"

"Stop your crying, young man," Missouri said softly. 

"I can't." He wiped his face as more tears fell. "What's going to happen to us?"

"Even I don't know that, Sam. What I do know is what I told you, what you already know."

"I...."

"Sam, Dean may not change back to himself right away, but he **will** get older inside. The passage of time is **not** going to diminish the love he has for you. If anything, he'll love you even more for taking care of him, just like he did for you. Isn't that why you love him?"

"Yeah," Sam sniffled, "one of the reasons."

"Then have faith. I know that's always been the most difficult thing for you, **all** of you, but just this once, let it happen."

"What about Dad? What if he tries to take Dean away because of this, because of what we feel?"

"Don't you worry about John. It would destroy the two of you to be forced apart, and your father knows that. No matter what he says, he'd never intentionally hurt you, either one of you. And you know in your heart that it's true." She laughed a bit. "Now get your shit together before I come down there with a switch **and** my spoon!"

Sam couldn't help the smile. "You said a bad word."

"Get some sleep, baby boy. And have nothing but good dreams tonight."

"Thanks. I love you, you know?"

"That I do. And I love you also."

They both hung up and Sam continued to sit there. A few minutes later his cell rang again. "Yeah?"

"I told you to get some sleep!"

Sam laughed out loud and stood up. "I'm going, Missouri, I'm going."

**~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean woke up at the crack of dawn, and it took him a moment to recognize the room. He was at Bobby's, but how he'd gotten there, he had no idea. The last he remembered, he'd told the witch that, good or not, all of her kind should have houses dropped on them and the Puritan's had had the right idea. He'd gone back to the motel with Sam and...nothing. He did feel fabric all over his body, which was even stranger - Dean slept in his boxers, no matter what the temperature. He glanced down and..."What the fuck....?"

Why was he wearing pajamas with...bunnies on them? And since when did Bobby have sheets with the same design? Not that Dean minded. He'd always (secretly) liked bunnies and had once asked John for a sheet set. John had, of course, said no, that they couldn't afford them. He turned to his side and nearly jumped out of his skin. Lying beside him was a huge stuffed monkey, like the one he'd had before his mother died, and next to that, a massive stuffed bear. And why was there a copy of _Treasure Island_ there? When he was a kid, it had been his favorite book, and he had gotten true joy out of reading it to Sam.

This was a joke! Now he knew what had happened! 

He'd gotten shit-faced, and Sam had taken him to Bobby's and along the way he'd probably blurted out to Sam about his childhood. He was going to kill Sam...and Bobby...and John, because he just knew his father had been involved with this. 

He sat up and a few memories came trickling back.

_There was a police officer, a woman. And they had messed with her head._

Dean's eyes grew wide.

_He'd gone with Sam to a carnival, Sam had won him the stuffed bear, and they had gotten into a fight with a couple of men._

Dean's mouth dropped open. 

_He had told Sam about their lives when Sam was small, about their mom. He told Sam (and his father and Bobby) that he liked bunnies. And stuffed monkeys. And John now knew about his feelings for Sam._

Dean rubbed his hands over his face as all his memories from the past few days came back in a flash. 

_Sam had been three times his size and...he had been a kid again._

Sam.

Dean smiled to himself, and had to fight back his tears. His younger brother had taken care of him, kept him safe, just like Dean had done for him years before. 

Sam had taken on their father in a fistfight, angry at how John had treated young Dean, made John apologize and admit some of his faults. Sam had brought Dean closer to his father again...brought them all closer, made them a real family for the first time. Yes, they were dysfunctional, but then again, so were most of the families they had encountered over the years. Dysfunctional was the equivalent of normal in Dean's book.

He loved Sam more now than ever. 

OH SHIT! LOVE!

He'd told Sam that he loved him...as more than a brother. Not directly of course, but he had excused it as being allergic to Sam. And Sam....

Sam had been jerking off in the shower, moaning Dean's name. At the time he thought Sam was in some sort of pain, but now....

Sam loved Dean, the way Dean loved Sam. 

Now, Dean just had to get Sam to admit it. And he knew just how to do it. He sat back down and screamed, "SAAAAMMMYYYY!!"

Sam barreled into the room so quickly that he tripped over the footrest and almost flew into the wall. "WHAT? What's wrong, Dean?"

"I had a bad dream." Dean sounded very morose and he was frowning. "I'm afraid to go back to sleep."

"Uh, okay Dean," Sam said. "What should I do?"

"Lay down with me?"

Sam looked at the bed. "Not so much room, what with _Cheetah_ and _Mister Wendigo_ there."

Dean bit the inside of his cheek, stifling his giggles. Now that he was himself, Dean was renaming **his** monkey ASAP, with **his** original choice; _Cheetah_ was a sissy name and belonged to a girl, very unbefitting the stuffed toy of a true (and male) Winchester.

But _Mister Wendigo_ would keep **his** name, because **he** belonged to Sammy and somehow that name was just perfect. 

Dean stood up and pulled his brother into a tight hug, purposely grinding his hips against Sam's. He pulled back, hiding his smirk and said, "Sammy, I think you're allergic to me too." Dean glanced at Sam's erection. "Did my hug do that to you?"

"I'm sorry, Dean. You were **never** supposed to know."

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean moved forward. "Can I have another hug?" Sam leaned in, but Dean threaded his fingers in Sam's hair and pulled their lips together. He broke the kiss and murmured, "I wanted to do that the night I came to Stanford, but Jess...." He stared at Sam, waiting....

"You're... **you** ," Sam said, accusing. "You're...how long?"

"Since I woke up." He looked deep into Sam's eyes. "I'm sorry, Sam, but I had to make sure how you felt before I told you." Dean stroked a finger down Sam's face and saw all the love he felt reflected back tenfold. "This was too important to make guesses over." He leaned in for another kiss and quickly found himself fighting off an octopus named Sam Winchester. 

Sam's hands were everywhere. Dean's hair, arms, lifting his shirt, teasing his nipples, attempting to pull down Dean's pajama bottoms. 

"Sam," Dean panted out, taking Sam's hands in his, stilling them, "calm down. No rush here."

Sam seemed to think otherwise and wrenched his hands from Dean's. He positioned himself in Dean's lap so they were facing, rubbing his own hard dick against Dean's. He ground his body down as he pulled Dean's lips to his, taking those lips forcefully. When he pulled back for air, Sam had a look of hunger in his eyes.

"Hey Dean," Sam laughed, pulling Dean's shirt over his head. "Wanna make love?"

'Yes, yes, very much so, more than anything in this entire fucking universe!' Dean thought, but all he was able to verbalize was a brief "Uh-huh," before he began to work on Sam's pants. He didn't get very far because Sam was grinding harder against him, pinching Dean's very sensitive nipples. And Dean felt it, the rush in his groin, the heat flaring..."Sam...oh God, sweet baby...love you...."

"You're a...romantic sap."

"Only for you, Sammy, never anybody else." Dean turned his head. "Oh shit, Sam, I can't...."

"Can't what?"

"I can't with **them** right there. They're...watching."

Sam cracked up as he shifted off his brother, putting the two toys in the closet, and then returned to Dean's lap, leaning down, blowing in Dean's ear. "Better?"

"Oh yeah, much."

Sam nibbled on Dean's ear lobe, making Dean moan. "Please Dean, need you now...."

"We'll take it slow, Sam. I don't want to hurt you...give you any pain." 

"Pain can be a good thing." To emphasize this, Sam threaded his fingers in Dean's hair and pulled his mouth down, sucking Dean's tongue into his mouth. When he pulled away, he purposely nipped Dean's lip.

Dean licked his lips, tasting the blood. "You're going to pay for **that**."

"What are you going to do Dean...spank me?" Dean raised an eyebrow at him, and Sam shook his head. "Don't even think about it."

"I'm not," Dean answered aloud. Inside, however, 'Not yet Sammy...not until we know each other a little more intimately.'

"Then what are you thinking about?"

"About you...about how long I've wanted **this**."

"It took you long enough to do something about it, Dean," Sam smiled. "And I was a bit slow myself. And now that we're on the same page, are you going to do something, or just look at me?"

"I like to look at you. But you're right...it's about time I did something about it." Dean kissed his way down Sam's long, lean body, taking a few moments to swirl the tip of his tongue around the nipples. Sam's soft moans were encouraging and he licked a path to Sam's navel, dipping his tongue in, hearing the giggles. And damned if Sam wasn't right! Dean **was** a romantic sap. The soft laughter from Sam warmed his heart. He hadn't heard that sound in **years** , a genuine, honest-to-God, Sam Winchester giggle. 

But other things beckoned, like the hard cock Dean felt pressed against his body. God, he'd wanted this forever and he had denied himself. How could he have been so fucking stupid?! He kissed along Sam's hips, down to his dick, peppering the length with kisses. Spreading Sam's legs a bit he swiped his tongue from base to tip, and slid back so he could move to his haunches and rest comfortably between Sam's legs. Licking his lips, he took Sam's cock in his fist, brought his head down...and of course Sam had to choose **that** particular moment to speak. 

"Dean, what if we do this, and you don't like it with me? What if I can't...perform? What if...."

Dean ignored him and slid his mouth over Sam's cock, moaning as he swallowed inch by inch. 

Any questions Sam had were forgotten because his brain had ceased to function. Oh yeah, his dick was in charge and he was giving it full control. And OH FUCK! Dean was deep-throating him, and Dean was moaning and humming and his left hand had found its way to Sam's ass, kneading the flesh. Sam felt the pressure of a finger pushing its way inside and was suddenly unsure about this. 

Dean was attuned to Sam and stopped what he was doing. "Sam, you've never...I thought...."

"Only with myself, Dean."

"Shh, s'okay, baby," Dean crooned as he raised his head. "Take a deep breath and relax for me." Sam did as he was told and Dean felt his body calming. "That's it, Sam. Another one." Dean's tongue teased the top of Sam's dick at the same time he slid his finger inside. 

Sam's first instinct was to pull away, but Dean grabbed his legs to keep him still. "Easy, little brother...it's only me." He swallowed Sam's dick again and he pulled his finger from Sam's tight hole and slid it back in. This time there was less resistance and a soft whimper from Sam. Dean bobbed his head up and down, finger-fucking Sam's ass to the same rhythm, until Sam was moving with him. He lifted his head again, "Do you trust me, Sammy?"

"Always," Sam answered, with no hesitation. 

Dean nodded, sucked on his fingers, wetting them, took Sam's dick down his throat again, and returned to Sam's ass with two fingers. 

Sam groaned from the intrusive pain, and tried to shift away. "Dean, please, I don't think I can do this."

"I'll stop if you want, Sam," Dean slid his fingers out, dipping his tongue into the tiny slit of Sam's dick. " **Is** that what you want?" His fingers slid inside again, slow and torturous, listening for words of protest. If Sam really wanted him to stop, he would. 

Instead Sam bore down on his fingers and he thrust into Dean's mouth, feeling the tip of his dick brushing the back of Dean's throat. Dean made swallowing motions and shoved his fingers deep and....Sam was seeing spots and his eyes were rolling back and he was screaming and moaning and fucking himself on Dean's fingers while Dean sucked him deep. And then Dean's fingers were gone and Sam felt empty. "DON'T FUCKING STOP!" 

**~~~~~~~~~~**

In the other room, John looked ready to kill. "So he wouldn't take advantage of Dean, huh? A lot you know!" 

"How much you wanna bet," Bobby started, "that Dean is himself?"

They both heard the shout of "HOT DAMN, DEAN!" followed by, "FUCK YEAH, SAMMY!"

John shrugged. "Okay, no bet." 

Bobby stood up and took John by the arm. "Why don't we get dressed, go into town, and uh, you can buy me breakfast."

There was more loud moaning, and a cry of, "OH SHIT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR TONGUE?!" 

John nodded in agreement and jumped out of bed, gathering his clothing and tossing Bobby's to him. "I think we better do it quickly, before I'm emotionally scarred for life."

**~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean lifted Sam's legs over his shoulders and placed a kiss to each of Sam's cheeks, slowly spreading him. He placed another kiss to the center and Sam nearly flew off the bed. "Something new to you, Sammy?"

"Dean, you're not gonna...."

"Oh yeah...." Dean almost purred and his tongue swiped Sam's crack. "Oh baby...taste so good...."

"OH SHIT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR TONGUE?!"

"Fucking you with it." Dean dipped the tip of his tongue in. 

"Oh...fuck...oh...Dean...I'm gonna come...."

"Not yet, bro', 'cause we're not done with the foreplay yet." He licked a path along Sam's inner thighs, nipping here and there, listening to all the sexy moans coming from deep within Sam's throat. "Tell me again, Sammy."

Sam managed to raise himself on his elbows, meeting Dean's eyes, knowing the words his brother needed to hear. "I love you." Then he smirked.

"What?" 

"Are you going to make love to me?"

"Are you sure you're ready for that, Sam? We can take it slow. I told you, there's no rush."

"Dean, I've been waiting for you since I was fifteen."

"Fif...." Dean just stared at him.

"Yeah, that's what I said. I think I've waited long enough, don't you?"

"Sammy, I don't have lube."

"Use spit if you have to, but I swear, if you don't...."

"It'll hurt, Sam."

Sam reached up, palming Dean's face. "You'll never hurt me, Dean. You could **never** hurt me."

"All right, Sam, but we do this my way. Don't try anything...acrobatic...or you **will** hurt yourself. Understand?" Dean waited for a nod and when he got it, he smiled again. He pulled one of Sam's legs over his shoulder, eyeing his thickened cock, which seemed to have grown even larger. "Jesus, Sammy, I don't think I've ever been so fucking hard." Dean spit on his palm, while his fingers slid in and out, slicking his cock as best he could. This was going to be tight, he knew that. "Sam, baby, you **have** to tell me if the pain is too much. I could tear you inside."

"Okay."

" **Sam**...."

"I promise, Dean."

"God, Sammy, you're so beautiful like this. How could I have denied this, denied us, for so fucking long?" He pressed the head against Sam's hole and Sam opened for him, no resistance, accepting him, drawing him inside. "I love you, Sam. I have always loved you. As brother, best friend...as everything." And Dean was inside and it **was** everything he had dreamed. **Sam** was everything Dean dreamed - smart, funny, honest. And he loved Dean purely, no strings attached. 

Sam grunted in obvious pain and Dean stilled. "No, don't stop. It's nothing I can't handle, I swear...." He smiled at Dean. "Swear to Bon."

Dean lifted Sam's other leg over his shoulder and shifted forward, burying himself in the heat. 

Hot, tight, welcoming...God, it was like Dean had finally come home. 

"Home?" Sam nearly giggled. 

"I said that out loud?"

"Along with a few other things."

"I love you." Dean began to move slow, undulating his hips, driving himself deeper. 

"Keep saying it Dean. I'll never get tired of hearing...." Sam lost all train of thought as stars appeared before his eyes again. "OH SHIT! WHAT IS THAT?!"

"That, college boy, is your prostate." Dean closed his eyes and focused on his feelings, hearing another scream. "I'm going to assume that was a cry of passion?" he cracked.

"Only you...oh God...could make smartass remarks...fuck, that's good...during sex." Sam moaned again, beginning to meet Dean's downward thrusts with movements of his own. 

"I thought it was making love." Dean lifted Sam's ass higher, going deeper, pulling out, thrusting in, kissing, biting, and moaning himself. He cursed in three languages, told Sam he loved him in six, and spewed the most filthy words and phrases. He was taking the two of them beyond pleasure, beyond pain....

Sam screamed again, the rush of pleasure almost overwhelming. 

"Don't pass out on me, baby. Not until I fill your tight ass with my come."

Sam reached down to take hold of his dick, but Dean slapped his hand away. "Mine." He wrapped his fist tighter around Sam's dick, jerked him fast, hard. His other hand was trying to hold Sam still, which was getting a bit difficult, what with Sam writhing under him, fucking himself on Dean's cock. "Sammy...." Dean slowed his pace, Sam was moving enough for the two of them. Instead he concentrated on Sam's dick, on taking Sam over the edge of the abyss, wanting Sam to come first, so needing for Sam to be pleasured. "Do it Sammy...wanna watch you come...."

And come Sam did, shooting streams all over Dean's fist, their bodies, and the sheets. 

Dean was wide-eyed at the sight. He'd never seen anyone come like that.

Sam still didn't stop moving, clenching his ass muscles, hands reaching for Dean's chest, raking his nails along the skin. "Inside me, Dean. Need to feel you."

Dean didn't want to come, didn't want this to end. But he finally let himself go, without screams, without moans...only a soft sigh escaped his lips as he came. Sam's legs slid from his shoulders, and he was getting soft, but still he stayed inside. "Don't want to leave you. Feels too fucking good."

"I know," Sam whispered, "but I'm getting a cramp in my...."

"A cramp, Sammy?" Dean smiled. "So much for basking in the afterglow."

"I'm basking, I swear," Sam smiled back, whimpering as Dean slid from him. "That was...." 

"Amazing?" Dean pulled Sam up and kissed him. "Heavenly? Stupendous?" 

"I don't have any words to describe it." 

Dean studied his brother's face, waiting for the smirk or snicker to follow. It took him about a minute to realize Sam was serious. "Let's clean up, Sammy. It feels good now, but it won't feel as good all sticky." He got out of bed and pulled Sam to his feet. "Let's shower. You wash me, I wash you...."

"And then?"

"Then, Sammy, we sleep, rest up, get our strength back for round two." 

"Round two?" 

"The one where I teach you to how to give a blow job." 

Sam dropped to his knees. "I think I can figure that out on my own...."

"SAMMY!"

**~~~~~~~~~~**

By the time the two woke, it was dusk. They'd gone not only for round two, but for rounds three and four also. 

"I'm hungry," Sam said, gathering his clothing. 

"I need a cigarette." Dean got dressed and kissed him again. "Damn, you are insatiable."

"Does this mean I can't blow you again?" Sam palmed Dean's crotch, his tongue snaking out, slowly licking his lips. "I kinda like dropping to my knees and making you scream."

"Oh God, later. I'm going to collapse."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, Sammy." Dean took Sam's hands in his. "I do."

**~~~~~~~~~~**

Dinner consisted of greasy burgers and fries for three of them; Sam had a salad, reminding Dean about his impending ulcer. 

After, they opened a bottle of whiskey and sat around talking. 

"I know what the lesson was, Sam," Dean started, "or at least I think I do."

"Explain it then," Sam challenged. 

"It wasn't a lesson for me, I think it was for you." Dean paused. "I've always taken care of you, Sammy. I was there for every...milestone. Your first step, your first word, even your first date." Dean paused, turning to John, who was looking a bit guilty.

"I'm not going to argue about that, Dean," John said. "I wasn't there for most of it, and even when I was, I wasn't...if that made sense."

"The lesson could have been meant for you, Dean," Sam said, "to find out what it was like to be a **real** kid, with no worries or cares, something you weren't allowed to have the first time around."

"Aww, you guys are **all** having a chick-flick moment." Bobby laughed. "Lemme go get my camera."

Dean was the next one to speak. "Sammy, maybe you had to learn what it was like to take care of me. You know, the shoe being on the other foot and all that crap."

"That sounds like a stupid lesson," Sam sighed. 

"Maybe the lesson was for me," John added. "I always treated Dean as an adult. Could be that I had to learn what my boys had become, that they were men, good men...even though they are going to Hell over incest."

"Dad, we're going to Hell anyway, might as well go for the tenth ring," Dean smirked.

"Yeah, John," Bobby laughed, "after Tulsa, you are bound for the eleventh ring!"

"What happened in Tulsa?" Sam and Dean both asked. 

"I swear, **Robert** ," John warned, "speak and die, slow and painful."

"I can't tell," Bobby cracked up again, "except that it involved a goat, two chickens and a coven of nubile, and virgin, witches." 

"You're going to be there too, frying right beside me," John told him.

"Maybe it was my taking Dean for granted," Sam said. "I always think he's going to be there, help me out of a jam. Even when I was at Stanford, I kept thinking that he'd show up if something bad happened."

"Family," Dean murmured, half under his breath.

"What?"

"Family," Dean smiled and nodded to all of them. "It was about family, that's the only thing that makes sense. Being together, appreciating one another. Just...family."

"Maybe you're right. None of those spells she had involved black magic, only the good kind." Sam shrugged. "I mean, you're back, you're you again, Dad and I are sort of getting along, and we.... **we** found each other. We're all going to live happily ever after."

"Happily ever after?" Dean just stared at him. 

"Oh God, Sam," John poured himself another shot, "that is by far the **most** clichéd thing you have ever said. You should be beaten and flogged for it."

"By the way," Sam smirked at his father, "I heard some...strange noises...coming from Bobby's room and I happened to notice that you didn't sleep on the couch."

"I...Sam, I'm your father, I'm older, and I'll screw anyone I damn please."

"Oh, so now I'm a cheap screw?" Bobby teased. "I seem to recall that you said...."

"I KNOW WHAT I SAID!"

"Sammy," Dean laughed, "Dad does **everything** with **anybody**...except for kids and animals."

"What about the goat and the chickens?" Sam giggled, looking at Bobby for an answer.

"Even your old man's not **that** kinky." Bobby stood and motioned John to the bedroom. "I hope you boys don't mind a bit of noise."

"Yeah," John nodded as he got to his feet, "although if I gag him again, you won't hear anything."

Sam began to choke, but Dean began to laugh again. 

John smirked, he couldn't help it. "Maybe I'll tie him to the bed."

Sam's cheeks grew pink.

"Spank him?"

Red.

"Use a dildo?"

"GOD DAD, THAT'S ENOUGH!" Sam was crimson now, burying his face in Dean's shoulder.

Dean was laughing hysterically. "I think that's enough, Dad. We don't have money for a psychiatrist, which he'll need if you say anymore."

Before John closed the bedroom door, he chuckled. "I could make him wear a little French maid outfit."

"I did NOT need that picture in my head," Sam said. 

"C'mon, Sammy, we have our own games to play." Dean took him by the hand and led him to their bedroom. 

"Games?"

"Oh yeah." Dean backed him into the room. "We could play the big bad prison guard with the virginal inmate."

"I don't know, Dean. Do you think I could play innocent virgin?"

"I wasn't talking about you, Sammy...."

**~~~~~~~~~~**

** Epilogue **

In the end, it was Sam who defeated the Yellow-Eyed demon.

Oh, Dean and John and Bobby had helped, but Sam had let loose with a massive burst of telekinetic energy which, along with the last bullet in the Colt, fired by John, sent the damn thing back to Hell, or wherever it was it came from. 

Although the four managed to escape (relatively) unscathed, Dean was depressed and Sam was inconsolable. For the boys had lost two of their best friends in that final battle. 

Yes, _Mister Wendigo_ and _Kong_ had been fried to a crisp by Azazel. The sight of the two toys burning had sent Sam into a rage and the demon didn't stand a chance. 

You didn't mess with a Winchester's stuffie and get away with it. 

**~~~~~~~~~~**

Afterwards, Sam excused himself and disappeared for a couple of hours. When he **did** return to the motel, he was totally crocked.

"Dean," Sam whined in a squeaky and slurred voice, "he's dead."

"That he is, Sammy," Dean grinned. "Isn't it great?"

"You're happy about it?!" 

"Of course I am. Aren't you?"

"No, I'm not. And...don't you have any feelings? I thought **you** of all people would understand."

Dean, John and Bobby all stared open-mouthed at Sam.

"Okay, son," John said softly, "would you care to explain **why** you're not happy?"

"He was my friend. I talked, he listened...." Sam was bawling now. 

"And just what exactly did you two talk about?" Dean asked him. 

"Does it matter?!" Sam snapped and grabbed Dean by the shirt, shaking him. "HE'S DEAD!"

"SAM!" John was shocked, as were Bobby and Dean.

"MISTER WENDIGO IS TOAST!" Sam let Dean go, and wiped his face. "He was pinned to the ceiling, his stuffing pulled out of him and crispy-fried!"

"Mister Wendigo," John said, "of course. We knew that."

"Yeah, we did." Dean and Bobby nodded in agreement.

"We'll get you another one, Sammy," Dean soothed, while John and Bobby whispered about getting Sam a good psychiatrist.

"I want MISTER WENDIGO!" Sam stomped his feet. "I want my teddy bear and I want him back NOW!" 

"Come on, Sammy." Dean walked him over to the bed. "Time for all good hunters to sleep off their binges."

"I had him longer than any other toy," Sam was whimpering as Dean tucked him in.

"I know, Sammy." Dean tried to sound sympathetic; laughing would only get his ass kicked by his brother right now. Or make Sam start crying again.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you get me another teddy bear?"

"Of course I will." Dean smiled and placed a kiss to Sam's forehead. "I'll get you two."

"I DON'T WANT TWO!"

Dean jumped back. "Okay. One."

Sam sniffled. "Spit and promise?" He spit in his palm and held out his hand. 

"Spit and promise, little brother."

Dean sat at Sam's side until he fell asleep. "Dad?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"Will you get me another monkey?"

"No, son, you're too big for one."

"But...."

John narrowed his eyes and smirked. "I'll get you a machete instead."

"Yeah?" Dean brightened. "Way cool."

**~~~~~~~~~~**

About a month later, the boys were involved in an exorcism in Duluth of all places. 

They stopped in to see Glinda (yes, that was her name) who was working on simple things these days, like levitation spells. They thanked her for what she had done, explaining how she had brought them together, which made her happy. She explained to them that she was finally going to Lawrence the following week, to meet Missouri, who had put her in touch with some other white witches to help her hone her craft.

On their way out of town, they spotted a carnival. 

"Uh, Dean....?" Sam asked, almost hesitantly.

Dean made a u-turn and grinned at him. "This time I'll buy the hot dogs and candy apples."

The first thing Dean did was pay the Ferris Wheel operator ten bucks to stop it when they reached the top, then spent five minutes making out with Sam. 

After a few hours of rides, the boys hit the midway. They played a few games and lost, knowing they would, but were having loads of fun and didn't care. They were about to leave when Dean spotted a booth. 

"Sam, that's the same guy as before, when you won the bear."

"Mister Wendigo," Sam corrected. "He had a name, don't forget it. And I think the demon pinned him to the ceiling out of spite."

"Fine. **Mister Wendigo**." Dean smiled, his standard, _watch while I do something sort of, but not quite, evil_ smile. "And I believe I promised you another one, didn't I?"

"What are you going to do?" Sam asked, a bit wary.

"Just sit and eat your apple and watch the master at work."

Dean knew just as much as Sam about carnivals, probably more. He hit the three ducks in succession, and then hit three more. When the carny tried to hand him two small stuffies, Dean grabbed him by the shirt. "Remember me?" he growled, and nodded over to Sam, who was sitting quietly, eating his candy apple, and looking like a total innocent. "I wanted a **big** bear and now I want another one. **And** a stuffed monkey." He pointed to one that was about five feet tall. 

The carny studied Dean's face, looked over at Sam, who smirked at him, then focused back on Dean. "You can't be...." he sputtered.

"Oh, but I am," Dean nodded. "I ate my Wheaties and took my Flintstones chewables and just look at me now. Now hand over the stuffies and nobody gets hurt." He paused. "And don't even think about getting any of your friends to take on my brother and me, because if you think you had trouble before...." He walked over to Sam, struggling to hold both animals. "Happy now, Sammy?"

"Immensely," Sam grinned back. 

They began to walk away when they spotted a man walking away from a booth, looking dejected. He walked over to a woman and two young children, and the boys heard the conversation. 

"I'm sorry," the father said. "I tried."

"It's okay, Daddy," one of the children said. "We had fun and that's all that matters."

"He's right, Dad," said the other child. "Who needs a new stuffed animal anyway?"

Sam looked at Dean, Dean smiled at Sam, and the two men walked over to the family. 

"Uh, I sort of won these and, uh, kids need...you know...." Dean started.

"You can never have enough stuffies," Sam added. 

Both parents eyed them a bit strangely.

"Honest," Dean said. "We have nobody to give them to anyway."

The children looked at their parents, who finally nodded. 

Both children hugged Dean, who actually turned red. "Please don't do that. You're ruining my reputation."

"Thank you," the mother said, giving Dean a kiss on the cheek. 

"You're welcome," Dean replied, chewing on his lower lip, a bit embarrassed.

As they walked away, Sam was grinning again. "Just for that, I'll let you bottom tonight."

"I knew being good would pay off eventually."

**FIN**


End file.
